You Have 7 Days
by shotofwhiskey
Summary: AU PreKlaine. Due to the fact that they're both dead, Kurt and Blaine are entered in the Reaper's Game, where it's all or nothing, to compete for a second chance at life. No prior exp. with the game necessary for this fic.
1. Twilight Galaxy and Blindness

YOU HAVE SEVEN DAYS.

This fanfic is a fusion with the Nintendo DS game The World Ends With You. If you haven't played the game, don't worry, everything will be explained in the context of the story. You really should play it, though, that game is fucking awesome.

Warnings: Pretty wildly AU. Lots of afterlife stuff, and this fic is gonna get kind of actiony. There will be a couple of fight scenes. I will do my best to not suck at writing those scenes. :x There's some gory description of death, and some of your typical angst.

Kurt and Blaine have never met, the Glee club was disbanded after they lost at regionals at the end of season 1.

This first chapter is in two parts. The first part gets a bit vague near the end, but that's intended. Part two is a bit of an info-dump, esp. if you've already played TWEWY. Sorry. :(

All my notes on this fic can be seen on my profile. Please keep in mind that those notes can contain spoilers for future chapters. Enjoy~

OoOoOoOoO

CHAPTER ONE, PART ONE. Twilight Galaxy.

Did I ask you for attention

When affection is what I need?

Thinking sorrow was perfection

I would wallow till you told me

There's no glitter in the gutter

There's no twilight galaxy

OoOoOoOoO

_There are many things that can push a person over the edge. It all depends on the person, of course. Some people can take years of abuse, torment, hatred, and plain angst and turn it into a character-building experience. Some people would fall apart at the seams if they heard that a handful of people didn't like them. Some people can take one traumatic experience and carry it with them, like a talisman, to prove to themselves that they're stronger than they may appear. Some people crumble under the pressure of daily life and turn to drugs or booze or lots and lots of sex to deal with their problems._

OoOoOoOoO

This garage holds a lot of memories for Kurt.

He can remember drawing on the concrete floor with sidewalk chalk as a child, always careful not to get it on his clothes. His favorite was always the ultramarine blue chalk, so he was always having to use the scraps of that color to make blue skies, blue cars, blue balloons, whatever his childlike imagination could think of.

He can remember the deep freezer that has always stood against the far wall, where ice cream and popsicles came from in the summer.

He can remember climbing nervously into his father's truck one morning to learn the first rules of driving. When backing out, use the mirrors. When turning, use the turn signal. That truck was an automatic, so Kurt hadn't had to learn how to drive a stick-shift. When his dad got a new truck (the old one's transmission kicked the bucket last winter), it was a stick-shift. The two of them sat in the cab, Burt in the driver's seat, Kurt next to him, both staring at the shifter as Burt tried to explain how a stick-shift worked. To this day Kurt is still unable to drive anything but an automatic.

One of the many things he is apparently unable to do.

Also on the list: Pass AP English, get a boyfriend, get Dad to notice him more, figure out what he's going to do with his life.

At the moment, Kurt is sitting alone in his own car, a pile of papers in Technicolor folders on the passenger seat next to him. The car isn't running, the key turned back towards him to run the CD player but not the engine. Today was the last day of school in his junior year.

He takes the green folder, which is at the top of the pile, and opens it. A year's worth of English assignments is inside, none with a grade higher than a B-. Kurt remembers slaving over each essay, stressing over each test over classic literature, staying up late looking up references and how to quote them properly, and consulting an SAT level book on English grammar. He definitely remembers how his English teacher, Mr. Whittaker, would avoid calling on him in class, would not walk by him, would act disgusted if their hands touched by accident when Kurt handed in a paper.

The B- had been an essay written a few weeks ago, before they started on their finals. They were told to pick a controversial topic relevant to their age group. Some girl picked abortion, the guy that sat next to Kurt picked 'violent video games', and there was a bit of a fight over who would get 'legalizing marijuana'. Yes, even in an AP class, the priorities of his peers were having unprotected sex, smoking pot, and playing video games. Or, at least, that's how he saw it.

Kurt chose the topic of teenage suicide. It had hit a little close to home with his recent bout with depression, but as it turned out, doing all that research had been oddly therapeutic.

Until he got the paper back.

He had slaved over that damn essay, determined to get an A. He knew for a fact that Mr. Whittaker was homophobic, so Kurt decided to bring discussion about gay teens committing suicide into his essay in an attempt to show the teacher how his attitude could be hurtful.

The paper was marked down a whole letter grade, and the only red marks on his essay were around the topic of gay teens. Mr Whittaker took offense to it, and even went as far as to write in the margins,

"If being gay makes you so unhappy, then don't be gay! Easy as that!"

Easy as that. Kurt tears up a little as he finds the neat writing off to the side of his essay. Well, he tried, and not being gay wasn't very easy for him. But he realizes now what Mr. Whittaker was trying to say.

Park the car in the garage, close all the doors. Roll the windows down, start the engine. Play some music, drift off to sleep.

And never wake up.

Easy as that.

OoOoOoOoO

"Hey, Blaine, we're going bowling tonight, wanna come?"

Blaine looks up from shoving sheet music in his bag to smile apologetically to his fellow Warbler, Jeff. "Sorry, not tonight."

The room is clearing out; Warblers rehearsal ran late again and Blaine checks the time on his phone nervously.

"Come on, Blaine," Nick whines from the door, "you never come out with us. It's a Friday! They do black light bowling on Fridays!"

Blaine shrugs a little, kind of a 'what can you do' look on his face. "I told my dad I would be home tonight," he says with a hefty sigh. "In fact, I told him I'd be home about twenty minutes ago, so I really need to get going."

He really hopes they don't hear the way his voice shakes.

Jeff looks to Nick with a raised eyebrow, then turns to watch Blaine make his way to the door. He follows after, with Nick falling in beside him as they walk behind Blaine at the same brisk pace. "One of us could give you a ride," Jeff says.

Blaine considers the offer for a second. His father always wants him home on time, no excuses. The man never lets Blaine drive to school, though, saying he hasn't earned the responsibility. As if being in a demanding extra-curricular activity like the Warblers, being an Honor Student with a nearly perfect GPA, and having a school sport to play for every season wasn't responsibility enough. He even gets a part-time job every summer, as long as it's within walking or bike-riding distance.

"No thanks," Blaine says, looking over his shoulder to smile at his friends. "I don't live too far from school, it won't take me but ten minutes to get home."

"We just don't want you getting into any trouble," Nick says sadly, fussing with the sleeves of his blazer, clearly worried.

"I won't," Blaine assures them, squaring his shoulders as they exit the building.

They say goodbye to each other and Jeff and Nick walk away, towards Jeff's car. Blaine doesn't have time to wait around to see them turn to look back at him every so often, nor does he have time to make note of the fact that Jeff does not immediately start his car and drive off. All Blaine has time to do is dig in his bag for his iPod as he walks, untangling the earbuds.

Once the music starts pounding in his skull, he finds it much easier to maintain the brisk pace needed to get home in a timely manner. Of course, he's already late, but his father usually waits about forty-five minutes before calling him, and an hour before he gets in the car to come find him. Getting called is bad enough for Blaine, and his father has had to come fetch him only once. It had been a soccer game that Blaine had 'forgotten' to tell his parents about, simply because his mother was the one who screamed insults from the sidelines if anything didn't happen in her son's favor. It was kind of embarrassing once he got older.

Blaine turns down Franklin Street, a shortcut that he's rather fond of. It isn't really a street, more of a long narrow alley between two office buildings. There is old graffiti and some wicker furniture that he's sure has been in the same spot since before he started attending Dalton. There are dandelions growing between cracks and the alley itself hasn't been repaved in ages. It feels old, antique, and that's what he loves about it. Though he does sometimes get a feeling of foreboding whenever he walks down this alley, but he just adds that to its charm.

He takes a quick glance at his phone, checking the time and to see if his father has called. He hasn't, so Blaine starts walking just a bit faster. Maybe he can make it home before his set curfew of five-thirty. Maybe he won't have to listen to another lecture about how irresponsible he is, how ungrateful he is.

Maybe.

OoOoOoOoO

The sound of the engine running is blocked out to his ears only by the sound of music playing. He had made a mix CD about three weeks ago containing his favorite songs. At first, whenever he listened to it, the music would wash away all the hurt and sadness. It would make him forget that being the gay kid at school pretty much made him a social leper. It would make him forget that his own father, while not willing to say it out loud, preferred Finn Hudson as a son.

Who wouldn't? Finn is straight, he plays football, he has lots of friends and everyone likes him.

The garage smells like exhaust. The smell doesn't bother him much.

OoOoOoOoO

His leg muscles are starting to burn. He certainly isn't out of shape, it's just that he just spent an hour and a half in rehearsal and is now trying to walk home as fast as possible without actually running. If he runs home, he'll be out of breath and his father will know he'd run home and will berate him for causing a scene. How would that look, a boy in a perfectly pressed school uniform running down the side of the street? It would look ridiculous. And no one in this family is allowed to look ridiculous.

They have an image to maintain, after all.

OoOoOoOoO

He is starting to feel sleepy. He is very dizzy. Keeping his eyes open makes it worse, so he closes them.

OoOoOoOoO

He is getting impatient. He's standing at a crosswalk, waiting for the light to change. He punches the button on the light pole again, just for good measure.

OoOoOoOoO

He might be falling asleep. Maybe he's dying. Maybe this is it. Maybe his dad will come home from work tonight to find him laying dead in the driver's seat of his car, the engine still running.

Maybe he shouldn't have shut his eyes so soon, because now he can't seem to open them again.

Maybe dying isn't as easy as he thought it would be.

Maybe this isn't what he wanted.

He starts to panic, but it's all internal. He can't think straight, he can't find the energy to just raise his arm and turn the key.

OoOoOoOoO

The light changes. "Finally," he mumbles.

He matches his stride to the beat of the song playing on his iPod. He turns up the volume a bit. He really likes this song. He keeps his eyes forward, full of purpose, trying to ignore the fact that the people sitting in cars are probably watching him walk past. People watching him like this unnerves him. He tries to concentrate on the music and not on his feet. He has a strange fear of tripping in the middle of crossing the street with a line of traffic watching.

He doesn't hear the screeching tires.

Or the horns blaring.

He really likes this song. That's all he hears.

OoOoOoOoO

He can't stay awake anymore.

He can't feel the slight vibration of the car running, he can't hear the music playing. His thoughts are disjointed. He sees broken images in his head; his mother, who died years ago. His dad, who he loves so much. His friends from the short-lived Glee club. What he remembers from his mother's funeral, his imagination putting himself in her place.

OoOoOoOoO

He doesn't see the truck at all.

He does feel it, however. It's like a hard shove, and it takes him so completely by surprise that he doesn't have any time at all to react. His left earbud is knocked out as he goes flying a short distance. There is pain all over. He doesn't know what just happened. He doesn't know what he was doing before just now. He can hear his music, he can hear a horn honking. He hits the ground and the pain explodes from one side to all over, and then nothing. All within the space of four or five seconds.

OoOoOoOoO

There is blackness, so complete that he can't even comprehend it. It's not like when the lights are out and you can just barely make out your surroundings. It's not even like when it's so dark you can't see at all and you can at least sense your surroundings. This is nothingness, and he seems to be just plopped right down in the middle of it.

He tries to remember why he's here.

He tries to figure out where 'here' is.

He doesn't know.

He wants to cry.

It occurs to him that he's dead.

He cries.

OoOoOoOoO

CHAPTER ONE, PART TWO. Blindness.

Send us a blindfold

Send us a blade

Tell the survivor

Help is on the way

I was a blindfold

Never complained

All the survivors

Singing in the rain

I was the one with the world at my feet

Got us a battle

Leave it up to me

OoOoOoOoO

Kurt is sitting on the floor in some indistinct place, washed out in white light coming from all directions. The floor is smooth and cold like ice. He doesn't really remember what happened before he got here. He doesn't know how he ended up sitting here, like he's waiting for something.

He can't see any walls, he can't see a ceiling. He doesn't even see his own shadow because the light seems to be coming from everywhere all at once. He holds his hand out in front of his face, staring at it as if he's never seen it before.

He doesn't realize that it's dead silent until it isn't anymore; there is the distinct sound of stilettos clicking, coming closer. The sound is echoing all around him, so he can't tell where the sound is originating from.

He shivers.

A woman's voice accompanies the clicking, "Hello there."

Kurt gulps nervously and, seeming to come back to himself, starts looking around for any sign of another person. There is none.

"Aren't you going to say hello?" the woman says. "Didn't your mother teach you any manners?" Her voice is soft and the reprimand is well-meaning. There is something in her voice that stirs memories loose in Kurt's muddled mind.

"My mother died ten years ago," he chokes out.

"Yes, I know," the woman responds. Kurt can hear a smile in her voice.

"Am I dead?" he asks, his voice small.

There is a length of time in which there is only the sound of her heels clicking.

Then, she replies, "In a manner of speaking, I suppose you are."

"...Oh, God..."

There is a quiet laugh, like music. "Sorry, he's busy. Oh, I never get tired of that joke..." She seems to say the last part to herself. "Well, the good news is that you weren't meant to die yet, so you get a second chance. The bad news is, we aren't going to just hand it over to you. You'll have to earn it."

Kurt is still reeling from the fact that he is currently dead. That his attempt was successful. That he is currently in some sort of twisted afterlife. That he was wrong about there not being any afterlife.

"...You were half right, Kurt," the woman says solemnly.

He groans, hugs himself, and has to resist the strong urge to rock himself back and forth.

"Anyway, back to the matter at hand. You have been selected to be a Player in our game, the Reaper's Game. You will be given seven days to prove you are worthy of a second chance at life. If you can survive the seven days and emerge victorious at the end of the week, you can get your life back."

"This is insane," Kurt whines, his voice strained. "I'm _dead_."

There is a light scoff. "Really, dearest, you must keep up.

"Now, the rules are simple. The game is managed by Reapers, and they can and will attack you. You will need to find a partner, and the two of you will work as a team. You will need to defeat what we call Noise, which are creatures made from all that's bad and nasty in the will do this with the use of Psychs."

Kurt grips his hair. Information is being crammed into his previously empty head and it hurts. He doesn't know where all of this is coming from.

Psychs; an extension of his Imagination used to attack Noise. The Reapers and the Noise are his enemies. The other Players are his competition. Psychs are channeled through a common-place item-

The woman is speaking to him again, simultaneous with the inpouring of information. "You'll be given some pins, the standard medium for Psychs. They each have a Psych assigned to them. Most importantly, you'll be needing these."

Two objects drop next to him. One is his own cell phone, the screen black. The other is pin-back button with a design on it that, had Kurt been in his right mind, he would think was incredibly tacky. It was a stylized skull, plain white on a black background.

"Obviously, the first thing is your phone," The woman says. Her voice sounds closer than earlier. Kurt picks up his phone with a shaking hand. "That's how you'll get your missions; one a day, which you must complete within the time limit or you'll be erased."

"Erased?" He doesn't like the sound of that.

"Wiped from existence. You are erased, you lose the game." Her heels click from behind him. "The other is your Player pin. It marks you as a Player, obviously. It also lets you Imprint, and keeps you from being Imprinted on. You must have it on at all times during the Game."

His head hurts so much. None of this is making any sense to him. It's like the time Finn tried to explain the rules of poker to him.

The woman seems to be walking in circles around him, but he still can't see her. "As long as you and your partner can work together, you should do fine. So that will be your first priority; get a partner."

Kurt stares down at his phone and new pin, feeling numb. "I don't think anyone will want to be my partner. Just like gym class. I must be in Hell, and this must be the preamble to an eternal dodge ball game," he mumbled.

"This isn't like gym class, Kurt," the woman says.

"This makes no sense," he says in a small voice. "Please let me wake up now. Please just let this be a bad dream. Why did I do this, I didn't really want to die!"

"We will take an entry fee. The one thing you value most."

"I don't even know why I did this... I just... Everything was so hard, everything was falling apart... I was tired of everything..." He can feel her standing behind him, but he is too busy panicking to bother turning around. "Please, please, please..." He begins to cry. "I was stupid, I know I was stupid! Please just let this be a bad dream-"

"We will return your entry fee at the end of the Game if you win." Her voice is quiet, right by his ear.

He is sobbing now, nearly incoherent. "P-please... My dad... my dad, he... I c-can't just l-leave him, he'll think it's his f-fault!" He gasps for air.

A soft hand comes to rest on his shoulder. It feels like warm sunlight. The woman beings to hum a hauntingly familiar tune.

_hush little baby, don't you cry_

_mama's gonna sing you a lullaby_

OoOoOoOoO

Blaine looks down at the lapel of his blazer where he put his new pin. It's right next to the Warblers pin he always wears.

The room is still cold, but the blinding light is gone, and it seems that the strange woman went with it. As walls and floor tiles and the like come into focus, he sees other people. Most of them are his age, about even in boys and girls. They all look either sick to their stomach or terrified.

Two girls are clinging to each other, both wearing red and white cheerleading uniforms; the blonde one is sobbing while the dark-haired one hugs her and pets her hair.

Another girl with dark hair is standing, and she's one of the few who seems to have the strength to do so. She has a look of purpose and drive that seems almost comical on someone so small.

A young man apparently in his very early twenties is staring vacantly into nothing, holding his out-of-date cell phone limply in his hand.

A boy is sitting on the floor not too far from Blaine, curled in on himself and crying. Blaine can hear him muttering.

"Please let this be a bad dream... Please let me wake up now... I didn't want this..."

Blaine wonders why he hasn't started freaking out yet. Honestly, hearing that he was dead was a bit of a shock, but he remembers getting hit by a truck and that it hurt a lot. Now it doesn't, though, and he doesn't appear to be horribly disfigured. He supposes that this game, a second chance, a way to prove his worth, has given him something to hope for. He may be dead, but all is not lost.

He just has to find a partner, hope they can work together, and survive a week in a game he barely understands.

The boy crying looks up and the movement catches Blaine's eye. They make eye contact.

That boy's eyes are so blue, Blaine feels like he may have been hit by a truck again. 'Oh, my God,' he thinks, his jaw dropping a bit. 'He is gorgeous.'

He attempts to smile reassuringly at the poor guy, because he seems really upset, and as pretty as his eyes are when he's been crying Blaine really doesn't want him to be unhappy.

The other boy just stares back for a minute, then he glances behind him. When he looks back at Blaine, he looks a bit puzzled.

Blaine wants to laugh. It's really weird. He also wants to get up and walk over to that other boy, maybe sit next to him, maybe convince him that everything will be alright.

All at once, everyone's phones go off with the same generic _"beep-beep"_ tone, scaring the living daylights out of everyone, including Blaine. With some difficulty he tears his eyes away from the crying boy to look at his phone's screen.

Instead of his usual background displaying a photo of him and his friends, there is a sickeningly green background. There is a digital clock, displaying the time and date. Above that is a message.

_The Game will begin in 30 minutes. You will be taken to the starting point shortly. When the Game starts, you will be required to find a partner. If you have not found a partner in 15 minutes, you will automatically be erased. Further details on the Game, as well as missions, will be sent to your phone._

_Best of luck,_

_The Reapers_

OoOoOoOoO

end of chapter one

In the next chapter, our boys look for a partner, get their first mission, try to figure out how to keep from getting killed, as well as find out what their entry fee is.

Hopefully ffnet didn't eat my linebreaks. They're kind of important in this chapter since it went back and forth between Kurt and Blaine a lot. Speaking of which, I hope the part where it was going back and forth came out right. I did that to build up the tension, and I only used pronouns so that the last part is vague enough that it could be either of them, or both.

This was meant to feel really fast-paced and anxious. I was going to go into a lot more detail with Kurt and Blaine before they died, but I feel like all the important stuff you need to know is that Kurt is unhappy, so he killed himself, and that Blaine has a strained relationship with his dad and he died trying to get home on time so as not to make his dad angry. I thought that if I put too much 'pregame' stuff it would distract from the actual purpose of this chapter, which was to introduce the boys and their issues, kill them, and get them in the game.

If you're confused about how the Reaper's Game works, well, you know how our boys feel. ;D It'll make sense in the next chapter when we actually start the game.

As I mentioned, I have notes for this fic. I make a lot of notes when I write, so if you want more info on this you can get it at my profile. The notes contain spoilers for the next chapter, so tread with caution if you want to be suprised. There is also a link to the TWEWY Wiki if you want more info on the game.


	2. Help I'm Alive

YOU HAVE SEVEN DAYS.

Next chapter yay!

I just want to say that I nearly passed out when I saw how many hits this had not even 24 hrs after I posted it. You guys are the best.

Also, I need to mention that I am going to take major artistic liberties with the Reaper's Game. It'll work differently in this story than it did in the game, because in the game the area covered was a shopping district in Tokyo. I am just going to adjust some things to make it plausible in a place like suburban Ohio. I am also not going with the popular headcanon where Lima and Westerville are two hours away. That would make no fucking sense at all in canon.

If you haven't played TWEWY none of that will even matter to you lol. I just assume I'm not the only TWEWY fangirl here.

Blaine may seem OOC, but keep in mind that he has lost a part of his personality and may not be 100% himself. It's kind of the whole point of the entry fee, that it's something you hold tight to so that without it, you re-learn how important it is, or maybe learn not to rely on it so much, etcetc

I have to tell you that I wrote most of this in one day. It was my day off don't judge me lol. Also I have a massive fucking toothache so if anything didn't turn out right I'm sorry and I'll fix it later when my jaw doesn't feel like it's gonna split like a hotdog in the microwave. On to the fanfic!

OoOoOoOoO

CHAPTER TWO. Help I'm Alive.

I tremble, they're gonna eat me alive

If I stumble they're gonna eat me alive

Can you hear my heart beating like a hammer?

Beating like a hammer

OoOoOoO

Blaine wakes up, but does not want to open his eyes just yet.

He doesn't really remember laying down outside in the grass, but that's where he is right now so he must have done so at some point. He can feel the early summer sun, he can feel a gentle breeze. If he concentrates he can just barely hear some kind of very distant music, but only in his right ear. How weird is that?

He'd had a weird dream where he was hit by a truck and died and was being forced to play something called the Reaper's Game to get his life back. It had been really strange, because certain parts of the dream had been very distinct. Like the pain from being hit, and the oppressive feeling of nothingness not long after. Then being in a light-filled room, dazed, while an invisible woman talked to him. He doesn't remember much of what she said. He does remember after that, though, when he saw a boy crying.

That had been the clearest part of the dream. That boy's eyes, the look of pure terror on his angelic face.

With a sigh at the memory, Blaine opens his eyes.

He is a bit shocked to realize he isn't laying in the grass of his back yard, or somewhere on Dalton's campus. In fact, he doesn't have any idea where he is. He sits up, maybe a bit too fast, because he has to duck his head down to combat a sudden bout of dizziness.

He hears cars. Wind whips around him every time one goes by. He must be next to a road. How did he fall asleep next to a busy road...? When did he even get here?

Blaine looks up, the spinning having settled a little. The road looks familiar; it's the main road that connects his hometown of Westerville to the next town over, which is Lima. The name comes into his head; US Highway 40. He can see a couple of other people sitting here and there in the grassy median, others having taken off running. But he doesn't focus on other people for very long.

A flock of sparrows are flying around, but they don't look like the extremely common brown birds Blaine knows so well. They look dead, with missing feathers and lifeless, glowing eyes. The birds are diving at people, pecking and scratching.

People are screaming in abject terror. Blaine just feels rooted to the spot, unable to work up the nerve to get up and run. He knows he was supposed to do something... It was really important...

...A partner. He has to find a partner. Somehow he finds the idea of going up to a total stranger and asking them to be his partner more terrifying than the road kill birds on a rampage.

He looks around, filled with a kind of horror he hasn't felt before. This feeling is worse than stage fright or the nervousness he usually associates with any interaction with his father. He is so scared he's starting to shake, he's breaking out in a cold sweat, and he doesn't remember the rules to the Game. It occurs to him then that it had not been a dream after all.

OoOoOoO

Kurt stumbles over his own feet, finds his balance, and keeps running.

He has to find a partner.

Almost everyone else has one or has already been picked off by the Noise. Kurt refuses to lose five minutes into the Game.

He has ten minutes to find someone.

He takes his phone out of his pocket to look at the timer.

_9:36...9:35...9:34...9:33..._

Now he only has nine minutes left to find someone. He feels panic welling up inside him again, but he forces it down with the expertise only earned through years of hiding tears from bullies. He crams the phone back in his pocket.

And he trips again, but this time over someone just sitting there like an idiot. Kurt flails a little as he goes down, right on top of the other guy, who is caught completely by surprise.

"Ow! Oh, my God, you scared me..." the boy Kurt tripped over says.

Kurt opens his mouth to reply, but is halfway through asking him if he's okay before he remembers. Kurt grabs the boy by the front of his blazer, meaning to dust it off a bit before he starts looking again.

But then he spots the Player Pin.

_You're a Player! _Kurt says as best he can without his voice. He moves his lips and everything to speak, but no sound comes out. It's hard to break the habit, and it's especially hard to say something and expect to hear your own voice, but instead you get nothing.

The other boy looks a little lost and more than a little scared. Kurt recognizes him from before the Game started; the cute guy that had smiled at him. It had been a vaguely flirty smile, too, and Kurt had thought maybe he'd been smiling at someone else, someone just behind Kurt. It's not like it's never happened before.

Kurt gives him a gentle shake to get his attention. The other boy lets out a little indignant sound. _Do you have a partner yet? _Kurt asks.

"Uhh... Sorry?"

Kurt rolls his eyes with practiced ease. God this kid is slow. He decides it would be best to over-enunciate. _YOU'RE. A. PLAYER. RIGHT?_

The other boy frowns for a second. It is rather adorable. "Am I a Player? A Player... OH. Right." His eyes get very wide. "I remember now...! The Game, I have to find a partner..."

Kurt sticks his hand out in greeting, clearly a few steps ahead of this poor guy. The other boy takes it warily.

As soon as they grip the other's hand, a spark seems to fly between them like an electrical current. It stings and burns and Kurt's whole arm tingles after they let go, the thin hair standing on end.

"What the Hell was that?" The other boy blurts out, clearly unnerved.

_Never mind that_, Kurt begins, before remembering again. He shakes his head to himself and stands up. He offers a hand to the other boy, who takes it.

Once they're both standing, Kurt puts a hand against his chest, signifying himself. _I'm Kurt, _he says, hoping the other boy will get it, because he really wants to know his name.

"...What?"

Another eyeroll. This is going to be a long week. _KURT. MY. NAME. IS. KUUURRRRT._

"Kurt... Your name is Kurt?"

_YES!_ Kurt says, exasperated.

"Oh. Well. Um. I'm... My name's Blaine. How come you aren't talking?" Blaine asks nervously.

_IT. WAS. MY. ENTRY. FEE._

"Your entry fee? Like, they took away your voice?" Blaine asks. He looks a little overwhelmed. Kurt can't help but think that this Blaine is not the same as the boy who smiled at him before the Game started. "I don't remember what they took from me. I don't really know what I value most-"

A sparrow shoots itself at Blaine just then, squawking loudly as it dive bombs at his head.

_Look out, you idiot!_ Kurt tries to say, shoving Blaine out of the bird's trajectory. He ignores Blaine's indignant cry as he hits the ground and reaches into the pocket of his jeans and finds a couple of pins. Upon taking them out, he looks over the designs, deciding to judge a book by its cover. It is very difficult to pick one when they're all so tacky.

Blaine is swatting helplessly at the birds attacking him; they've already drawn blood as they peck and scratch at him. He puts his arms over his head and runs behind Kurt for protection. "Oh my God oh my God oh my God! What the hell is wrong with everything? What do we do?"

The flock zeroes in on them and moves to attack. Kurt takes two random pins and thrusts them into Blaine's shaking hands. After Blaine closes his fingers over the pins, Kurt puts his hand on top to get his partner's attention. _We have to FIGHT THEM. You have to use Psychs. Remember?_

Blaine looks up at Kurt, and Kurt makes a note of the color of Blaine's eyes; a really deep, rich amber. "We have to fight them. Use Psychs."

_Right,_ Kurt says impatiently. _Let's just hope these work._

Kurt takes one of his two pins in hand and it suddenly grows very warm. He isn't really sure how he knows how to work it, but he does and the pin's Psych activates. A strange tingling sensation erupts up his arm, as if he'd just dunked it down into a barrel of Novocaine.

His eyes find a rusted hubcap laying abandoned on the side of the road, clearly weathered and sun-bleached. Reaching out with the Psych, Kurt manages to pick it up.

To Blaine, it merely looks as though Kurt is standing there making angry eyes at the hubcap that has somehow started to float in midair. He doesn't know the first thing about using Psychs so he just hides behind his hands, praying for this to be over quick.

Kurt flings the hubcap at the flock of approaching Sparrow Noise; some of them fly away, others are hit by the flying object and erupt into a cloud of static as they're erased.

_Got 'em,_ Kurt says smugly. He watches the rest of the Noise fly away to attack someone who doesn't know what they're doing. He turns on the balls of his feet, finding Blaine exactly where he left him.

_A lot of help you were, you big wuss, _Kurt can't help but think. He walks over to his partner, then crouches in the dirt and grass right in front of him. Blaine does not take his hands away from his eyes.

"Are they gone?"

Kurt nudges Blaine with his hand, and Blaine peeks at him from between his fingers. _They're gone. For now, _Kurt says.

"Thank God. That was terrifying. I don't know how you didn't freak out. I am so totally useless, I'm sorry." Blaine says, looking dejected, trying to cover it up with an apologetic smile.

Kurt clicks his tongue; he can at least make that much sound, and he gives Blaine a sympathetic look. _It's okay, _he says. He understands that Blaine is just overwhelmed and that whatever was taken from him must really be effecting him. Either that or the boy that had smiled at Kurt really is super confident and sure of himself, and he has a twin brother named Blaine who is a total coward.

OoOoOoO

The Noise have all but dissipated; there are no other Players around. Kurt and Blaine decide to hide under a nearby underpass until they see that it's swarming with Noise.

"Oh holy shit!" Blaine hisses as they approach. He grabs Kurt's hand and starts marching purposefully in the other direction, mumbling about how this is all going to take years of therapy to get over.

As they retreat, both of their cell phones go off with the same annoying _"beep-beep" _as before. They stop walking and Blaine lets go of Kurt's hand so they can check their phones.

Blaine pokes the screen on his phone and it comes out of its sleep mode; there is a new message above the time and date.

_CONGRATULATIONS ON FINDING A PARTNER. _

_MISSION ONE_

_REACH THE COURTHOUSE. YOU HAVE 200 MINUTES. FAIL AND FACE ERASURE._

_-THE REAPERS_

"The courthouse? D'you think they mean-?" Blaine is interrupted by a very sharp pain in the palm of his right hand. _"OW!" _he cries, shaking his hand out as if he just shut his fingers in a car door or something.

Kurt is having a similar problem, but he is opting to hold his right hand in his left, right at the wrist and squeeze it, his eyes shut tight. He is clearly cursing up a storm, but is speaking too fast for Blaine to read his lips.

After a few seconds, the pain dulls down quite a bit, and Blaine looks down at his hand. There are numbers there; 3:20:00, seemingly etched into the air just above the palm of his hand. They look like numbers from a digital alarm clock, and as he stares at it, the numbers start counting down like a timer. Three hours and twenty minutes; or, two-hundred minutes.

"This is our timer for the mission," Blaine guesses out loud. Kurt nods in agreement; he then holds his hand out, palm up. Blaine can see his timer, which displays the exact same thing. Kurt writes a zero in the air over his timer, then draws his finger across his neck with a grimace.

If the timer hits zero, they're done for.

"Guh-..." Blaine chokes. The pain throbs each time a second ticks down. It is very distracting. "W-well. I guess we'd better get to the courthouse, then."

Kurt nods sardonically. _No shit,_ he says. Clearly the pain is making him grouchy.

Blaine frowns at the rudeness but lets it go unsaid. "Okay. Well, do you know where the courthouse is?"

Kurt shrugs.

"Well that's great, then. Maybe we can ask someone for directions!" Blaine says, his voice full of panic. He waves his arms around as he speaks, apparently fond of gesticulating. "Oh wait, we can't, we're DEAD. I guess we can just close our eyes, spin in a circle, and where ever we stop, that's the direction we'll head and hope for the best!"

Unbeknownst to Blaine, who is pacing in agitation, Kurt is also having a nice little rant.

_Don't you yell at me, you prick, it's not MY fault! Why do you assume that I should just automatically know where the courthouse is from here?_

"We should have just let the Noise finish us off!" Blaine cries, hands flying into his heavily gelled hair. He turns to look at Kurt, who jabs him in the chest with his finger before he can say anything.

_If you would stop freaking out we could figure out where we are-_

"There's no way we'll get there in time!" Blaine whines helplessly, only able to catch the last part of what Kurt said. "And you know, it would have helped if they weren't so damn vague about everything-"

_-I hope you know we have wasted fifteen minutes so you could have a little hissy fit!_ Kurt says, grabbing Blaine by the tie and yanking on it to get him to stop pacing.

Blaine is suddenly quiet, his eyes wide and scared again. His hands seem to automatically go up in a gesture of resignation. Whatever his retort was going to be seems stuck in his throat. He opens and closes his mouth a few times, his expression comparable to a deer in headlights. Kurt regrets grabbing at him and being so forceful, but really. He had to do something.

"Oh, this is just precious."

At the sound of an unfamiliar voice, Kurt and Blaine jump a little and look up; there is someone standing on the overpass they had been walking away from. Neither can really make out who it is, but there is no mistaking the ugly black wings coming from the figure's back. A Reaper.

"Don't stop on my account," the stranger calls, "This is almost more entertaining than watching those two female partners make out. Almost."

Kurt is very confused. A quick glance at Blaine confirms that he isn't the only one who is.

"Now you're just being boring... I guess I'll just have to take care of this now." And the stranger vanishes.

Only to reappear a few feet away from Kurt and Blaine. Blaine cries out and stumbles back a few steps.

"Sorry," says the Reaper, not really sounding sorry. "The name's Jesse St James, a Reaper. You?"

Kurt, being unable to speak, merely glares. Blaine, now scared shitless, just stands there looking nervous.

Jesse the Reaper sighs deeply. "Ugh... You Players are all the same. It kind of sad, actually. I always try to be nice at first, but you Players just assume I'm a bad guy because I'm a Reaper."

"They told us the Reapers would try to erase us," Blaine says quietly.

"I know that, idiot," Jesse snaps, causing Blaine to recoil. "Anyway, I always like to wait until you Players get your hopes up, thinking that you can maybe actually win the Game before I make my move. It's so much more fun to crush someone when they're that much closer to the finish line. The expression on their face alone is worth it."

Kurt rolls his eyes for what might be the millionth time that day. They are wasting time. He grabs Blaine by the arm and starts walking away from Jesse the Reaper.

"Hey! Where d'you think you're going? I could erase you right now you little brat!"

Kurt tugs hard on Blaine's arm to get him to keep up; he seems to want to keep looking back at Jesse as though afraid to turn his back on him. "Kurt," Blaine says, "Kurt, I don't think we should just... That guy's a Reaper, he could take us out in like two seconds. And we don't even know where to go. We're just gonna get more lost."

Kurt looks back at Blaine, then gives him another tug to get him walking next to him. They make eye contact and Kurt says Don't worry. _He already he said he wouldn't. And I have a plan for our mission. _

Kurt only has to repeat himself twice for Blaine to catch on. He'll call that progress.

They smile at each other, and their previous argument is forgotten.

OoOoOoO

Meanwhile, Jesse watches the two walk away towards a cherry picker sitting on the side of the road. He laughs humorlessly to himself, amazed at the ingenuity. Most Players just run around like chickens with their heads cut off, hoping to head in the right direction. Though those two got off to a rough start and spent precious time arguing, their apparent plan of getting high up enough to figure out where they are will save them a lot of time.

Jesse crosses his arms over his chest. He hates to admit that he's impressed, and decides he's going keep an eye on them.

OoOoOoO

Blaine holds on to the rail of the cherry picker's basket, looking out at the city just north of the road they are currently on. It looks familiar, and it only takes him about two seconds to realize that they are outside of Westerville.

'Home team advantage,' Blaine thinks happily. He looks down at Kurt, who is standing with one hand on his hip and the other shielding his eyes from the sun. "Looks like we need to head north to get into town," Blaine shouts down at Kurt, "I know this place really well, too, so once we get in the town itself I'll know how to get to the courthouse."

Kurt gives him a thumbs up as congratulations, then motions for Blaine to get down.

Blaine had had a hard time with the controls for the cherry picker at first, but once he got it figured out it wasn't a big deal. Now he lowers the basket with no problems, and gets his feet back on solid ground without injury. Kurt looks insanely relieved once Blaine leaps out of the basket.

Blaine dusts himself off, then shrugs out of his now dirty and torn blazer. "We should get moving," he says lightly. "Two and a half hours should be enough time to get to the courthouse, as long as we don't run into any trouble and as long as we take a few shortcuts."

Kurt isn't really listening; Blaine can tell by the faraway look on his face. He puts a hand on his partner's arm, stopping him. "Kurt? Are you okay?"

He shrugs. Then he looks down at his timer pointedly.

"Right," Blaine says darkly, "we should get going if we want to be on time."

They begin walking, heading north.

OoOoOoO

Blaine doesn't know what to do. There is a very awkward silence between him and Kurt; obviously, Kurt can't carry a conversation very well because he doesn't have a voice. Blaine was always taught to have manners, and good manners dictate that you maintain a conversation at all costs, so that you avoid situations like this.

There isn't any way to talk to Kurt right now without it being very difficult for both of them. Blaine was never very good at reading lips, and Kurt gets very impatient when he has to say everything slowly and deliberately just so that Blaine can follow along. Blaine spent the first few miles of their walk into town asking Kurt yes-or-no questions, all the while keeping an eye on his timer.

He didn't find out much, just that Kurt is going to be a senior next year, that he has a step-brother (it had taken some creative hand-charades for Blaine to understand that Kurt's sibling is his _step_-brother), and that he loves singing and fashion.

The timer's throbbing in his hand hits harder for one beat, going from feeling like a light poke to a hard finger jab and back to a poke. He looks at his hand again to check the time.

Apparently the harder throb signified the passing of an hour.

"Shit!" Blaine hisses. Kurt looks over at him, an eyebrow raised. He sees the time left on their timers and makes an appropriate face, one of shock and 'holy shit we're fucked'.

_We have to start running! We only have about two hours now, and we're not even in town yet! _Kurt says. He looks like the idea of running from here to the other end of town may be comparable to jumping the Grand Canyon; impossible.

Blaine feels hopeless now; if Kurt doesn't think they can do it, why even bother? Kurt starts tugging desperately on his arm, silently begging him to start running.

'We're dead men walking...' he gripes internally, 'figures they'd set us a mission we couldn't complete... and what is that sound...?' Blaine looks around, mildly annoyed, swearing he can hear some kind of rustling noise. Kurt keeps tugging on his arm and it is very distracting.

They struggle for a second before Kurt's grip slips and he falls back hard. He sits there for a second without moving; Blaine is watching for any sign of anger (while keeping an ear out for the suspicious sound). All he knows about Kurt from personal experience is that he can have quite a temper.

When a few more seconds pass and Kurt still hasn't even looked up, Blaine gets a little concerned. He steps closer. "Hey," he says softly, "are you okay? " Which, in hindsight, is a terrible question to ask. They're going to be erased, of course he isn't okay.

There is more rustling coming from a few feet away, where a clump of bushes sit. The leaves shake sporadically and Blaine is instantly on edge. Kurt still doesn't look up.

"Um... Kurt... I think there's something in that bush," Blaine whispers, not wanting to call attention to themselves.

Kurt scoffs.

"Look, I don't really get why you're upset right now. I mean, maybe it's the fact that we might not make it. But that's life I guess. And sitting there moping isn't gonna help either. You got pissed at me earlier for freaking out and wasting time. Now you're sitting here, pouting, wasting time. But there really is something in the bushes, Kurt, I think it's one of those Noise things. I can see its creepy glowing eyes...!"

Kurt still doesn't look up, just hugs his knees to his chest and hides his face in his arms.

"You can't be serious right now," Blaine says, "You're gonna let that thing get me."

Again, Kurt doesn't so much as stir. Blaine begins to fidget.

"Kurt," his voice sounds so pathetic, "please... I don't know how to do this and... I'm, um... scared."

Kurt looks up slowly. He regards Blaine, then turns to look at the rustling bushes. The hard look in his eyes melts away and he grabs a stick. He looks up at Blaine again, who is very confused.

However, when Kurt begins to write something in the dirt, Blaine catches on. He moves behind Kurt to read what he's writing.

_USE THE PINS I GAVE YOU, IDIOT_

Blaine frowns. He does not think the name calling is necessary. Kurt taps his shin with the stick to get his attention; he has written something else.

_HURRY UP._

Knowing they haven't really got time to spare here, Blaine digs in the pockets of his uniform slacks and produces the two pins Kurt gave him earlier as well as a few that have been in his pocket since he woke up, but tried not to think about.

He clutches one of them, just like he saw Kurt do earlier. He tries to concentrate, he tries to feel something. But nothing happens. He looks down at the pin; an image of a hand. He saw Kurt use one like this earlier against the Sparrow Noise.

Apparently it isn't going to work for him.

Kurt is swinging his arms, attempting to get Blaine's attention again. Blaine looks over at him, desperate for any advice.

_LIGHTNING BOLT, _Kurt says, drawing the shape of a lightning bolt in the air. _USE. THE. .BOLT._

Blaine turns around, but almost wishes he hadn't. A decomposing raccoon is slowly emerging from the bushes, hissing and spitting like it's rabid. Which it probably is. He might puke. He can see what might be rotting flesh bones through clumps of matted fur. This is going to haunt his nightmares for the rest of his life. Which apparently isn't going to be very long.

The raccoon crouches down in a position to jump. Blaine clutches the Lightning Bolt pin tightly, and he can feel it get hot. He can feel it building up with energy. He just doesn't know how to release it.

The metal pin is starting to burn his hand. He has to fight the urge to drop it. He bites his lip and tries to remember what that lady told him about Psychs, about how they worked. He still can't remember how to release it, though. There's something he's missing-

The Raccoon Noise leaps at Blaine, bearing its teeth and claws, ready to take him apart. Blaine cries out and, due to his workout-of-choice being boxing, his first instinct is to punch with his right hand.

The punch misses the raccoon by a mile, but the Psych is apparently unleashed by the motion and a bolt of lightning runs from the pin in Blaine's hand to the Noise, zapping it in midair. The raccoon falls to the ground with a thud, looking thoroughly unhappy.

"Why didn't that finish it off?" Blaine cries hysterically. He doesn't have much time to panic, though, before a bicycle of all things goes flying through the air, colliding with the raccoon. It screams in the throes of death before it's gone.

Blaine stares at the bicycle laying on the ground before him. He is, to say the least, dumbstruck. He turns to look at Kurt, who is smiling proudly at him.

_Good job,_ Kurt says, his eyes dancing in the afternoon light._ You did it!_

He did it all right. He looks down at the now innocent-looking pin in his hand. It has a lightning design on it, bright electric blue on yellow. The colors clash so much, it's no wonder Kurt gave it to him. "Well, I did half of it," he says, and looks to Kurt, who is twirling his stick like a baton. "Thank you for helping me. Where'd the bike come from?"

_It was sitting against that tree,_ Kurt says, pointing at a nearby oak tree with the stick. Blaine finds it odd that he doesn't have to work as hard to read his lips, but just chalks it up to getting used to it.

"How convenient. Do you want the pegs or the handle bars?"

_What?_

"Stand on the pegs or sit on the handle bars? We can ride the bike and make better time."

Kurt looks at the bike, then back at Blaine. Blaine can see Kurt finding his drive again, finding that little spark of hope.

_And why do I have to be the passenger?_ he asks as he walks by Blaine to get the bike.

"I'm like, way heavier than you. If I stood on the pegs or sat on the handle bars while you peddled it would totally throw you off balance. You're super light so you get to be the passenger," Blaine puts his pin back in his pocket. "Unless you think we should just not take the bike. I'm sorry, it was a stupid idea. You don't want me making decisions like that for you. I'm sorry," Blaine sighs, frustrated with himself. Then he looks over to Kurt.

Kurt is holding the bike up by the handle bars and staring at Blaine, looking mildly amused._ I think it would be best if I stood on the pegs, _he says, and makes a grand gesture at the seat of the bike. _After you._

Blaine hesitates. Then he smiles, a little shyly, before walking over to Kurt and the bike.

OoOoOoO

In the end, they make it into the downtown area of Westerville with forty-five minutes left and the courthouse in sight.

Kurt clings to Blaine' shoulders and tried to keep from slipping off the pegs on the back wheel. He can hear Blaine panting, having possibly gotten the workout of his young life by peddling the bike as hard and fast as possible nearly ten miles with a passenger. Kurt genuinely feels awful, because Blaine is gasping for breath, his face is red and he's sweating through his dress shirt. On top of the fact that earlier Kurt pushed him into the dirt and he was attacked by zombie birds, Blaine's clothes are not having the best of luck today.

"Left!" Blaine cries, giving Kurt a heads-up before turning left down Michigan Street. They learned early on that it would be best for Blaine to give Kurt a warning before they took a turn, so that Kurt could lean with Blaine and keep them both upright. Needless to say, on their first attempt they ended up falling over pretty quick.

The courthouse is looming up ahead, and Blaine seems to be forcing himself to keep the bike moving. It's not like they have an option.

Kurt squeezes his shoulders carefully. He wishes he could say something encouraging. He wishes he could have convinced him to switch a few miles back, but he wouldn't pay attention to the pokes in his side.

Finally,_ finally_, they got onto the sidewalk of Main Street, which will lead them directly to the courthouse. Kurt pats Blaine on the head; it is the only encouragement he can think of.

"Almost... there...!" Blaine gasps.

As they roll up to the steps in front, Blaine allows them to coast, and they come to a stop. The bike starts falling sideways and Blaine nearly goes down with it; Kurt reaches out and grabs him, putting an arm around his waist to keep him upright.

They struggle up the steps, Kurt practically dragging the winded Blaine along. He keeps sputtering, trying to say something but can't catch his breath enough to say it.

Kurt dumps him unceremoniously at the lime-covered statue standing outside the courthouse. Blaine manages to catch himself before he hits the concrete too hard, and sits against the statue. Kurt drops next to him.

They look down at their hands in tandem, happy to see the timers gone.

"We, huh-... We did it." Blaine chokes. "We made it."

Kurt hugs Blaine then, not really caring about how his partner might take it. In fact, Blaine just seems happy for the contact and immediately hugs Kurt back.

"One day down," Blaine says into Kurt's shoulder.

Kurt nods and tries to ignore the butterflies in his stomach as Blaine hugs him tighter.

OoOoOoO

end of chapter two

fuck my jaw hurts

ugh. I have no idea if this turned out as good as the first chapter. if it didn't please let me know so I can fix it. The next chapters are going to have more content and conflict and stuff. This was their first mission, which in the game was always 'go to this building'. The other missions are gonna be more complicated than that.

I'll put the notes and shit up tomorrow, I need to get to bed. After I take three tylenol and some Oragel. fuckin wisdom teeth :x

bedtime. laters.


	3. Satellite Mind

YOU HAVE SEVEN DAYS

Woo next chapter yeaaah party hard

I found my copy of the soundtrack for TWEWY and my god. It's bringing back all the happy memories, and it's really getting me into the mindset for this fic. God I love this game's music.

this chapter got super long, go me. about 19 pages not counting the ANs.

So I'm going to put more details in this chapter. If you're confused, this is the chapter you want. If after reading this you are STILL confused, don't worry. Just send me a review (or even a PM, if you're shy) telling me what you don't get. Ditto if there is something you think I could work on. I esp. need feedback to know what those of you who haven't even heard of TWEWY aren't getting, because I have obviously played it and, as any writer knows, it's incredibly easy to forget what your reader doesn't know.

The hit counter keeps going up and up... Though my parody I posted while on expired cough medicine has more than this fic. ;D Maybe I should write this while on expired cough medicine...

OoOoOoOoO

CHAPTER THREE. Satellite Mind.

When I'm bored

I send vibrations

In your direction

From the satellite mind

When your voice

Became vibrations

From the satellite mind

It sounded like mine

OoOoOoOoO

"Okay, so... Here's what we know for sure..." says Blaine, looking at the back of a flyer for someone's missing dog.

He and Kurt are sitting in the park, in the grassy area right next to the playground equipment. They had, strangely enough, come-to in this spot about half an hour ago with no definite knowledge of how they got here, when they 'fell asleep' (there was no other way to put it, really), or even how long they'd been out. They had agreed to take this occurrence at face value as one of the quirks of the Game.

Upon checking their phones, they found that it was the next day. Their second day of the Game.

Blaine had decided he would feel better if they made a list of what they knew in regards to the Game. He had yanked the flyer off a light pole without much thought to the poor missing dog, and had been extremely lucky in finding a barely working, dirty ball-point pen in the gravel nearby.

"First. We are definitely dead," Blaine reads, nodding once.

_Duh,_ Kurt mouths. Blaine isn't looking at him so he doesn't see it.

"Second. We are supposed to finish missions which usually entail fighting horrible demon creatures called Noise, which are made of all my childhood nightmares all at once."

Kurt scoffs and rolls his eyes. He guesses he may as well get used to doing that if Blaine is going to be this dramatic about everything.

"Third. We fight Noise using Psychs, which are like crazy Harry Potter magic in those pins people usually get at Hot Topic or whatever with obscure band names on them. Or like my Warblers pin," Blaine says offhandedly, looking down at his blazer, which is folded up on the ground beside him. He looks at Kurt, who is twirling a piece of wild wheat in his fingers. "Hey Kurt, do you think my Warblers pin might have a Psych?"

Kurt glares dryly at Blaine, who immediately backs down and starts blushing furiously.

"Yeah..." Blaine says quietly, "yeah that was stupid. Sorry. A-anyway... um... Where was I?" He looks at his paper as a pretense to hiding his face.

Kurt side-eyes Blaine as he ties the end of the wild wheat in a knot absent-mindedly. Kurt doesn't really get Blaine; one minute he's fine, the next he's falling apart. It's like, as soon as he has to argue his point on something, or do anything on his own, Blaine gets flustered and can't do anything but panic. Kurt is starting to wish he hadn't partnered up with someone as flaky as him, even if he is really cute.

What else is on your list? Kurt asks, and remembers Blaine can't hear him. It's really taking its toll on Kurt's patience, having to do something to get the other boy's attention every time he needs to say something, especially when he sometimes has to repeat himself because Blaine apparently sucks at reading lips. Blaine has gotten better at it, though.

Kurt swats gently at Blaine with the wheat, and Blaine looks up. _What else?_

Blaine frowns. "What else? 'What else' what?"

Kurt struggles to hold in his agitation. Blaine had been so excited about making this list before they got their mission for the day, after all._ That list! What else!_

"Oh, right..." Blaine looks back at his paper. "Let's see... Um... Fourth, right?" Kurt nods at him impatiently. "R-right, fourth. We, um... know we have to finish one m-mission a day... for seven days... If we don't finish, we're erased." Blaine swallows thickly.

Kurt now feels really bad for getting impatient, because Blaine looks pretty upset. Kurt is just about to reach out to grab Blaine by the shoulder and smile apologetically at him, maybe say 'sorry' as best as he can, when his damn phone goes off in tandem with Blaine's.

_"BEEP-BEEP"_

Kurt sighs and drops his hand, which had been halfway to Blaine's shoulder. Blaine looks shaken as he takes out his phone to check the mission. "I really don't want to open this message," he says quietly. His voice is shaking almost as bad as his hands. Kurt feels like shit. He does reach over this time, but he grabs Blaine's phone instead of his shoulder.

Let me open this one, then, Kurt says once they have eye contact. He tries to put as much of an apology in his eyes as he can before getting his own cell phone out and opening the message. Blaine just stares back, his expression carefully blank. Kurt doesn't want to dwell on it, so he opens the new message on his phone.

_FREE FRANKLIN STREET FROM THE NOISE._

_YOU HAVE 300 MINUTES. FAIL, AND FACE ERASURE._

_-THE REAPERS_

Kurt hears Blaine cry out in pain as the timer starts; he feels it himself but is unable to make a sound in protest. Instead, he flings his phone away as though the device has burned him, purely by instinct. When the pain has passed enough to think coherently, Kurt looks over to Blaine.

Blaine is holding his right hand against his chest with his left, his eyes are shut tight, and his shoulders are starting to shake.

Kurt, shocked, grabs him by the upper arms, gripping tightly. _Oh no, _Kurt says, _don't cry! Please don't cry! We have to finish the mission before anyone has a meltdown!_

Blaine takes a deep, shuddering breath, trying to calm down. He doesn't look back at Kurt, though, clearly ashamed. "...sorry, um... I don't know what that was all about, but... sorry." Blaine looks up now, his eyes rather red and his face still red from blushing. Though he's looking up, his eyes dart from here to there, avoiding eye contact with Kurt. They land on Kurt's lips when Kurt begins to say something.

_We'll. Be. Fine. _Kurt says slowly, _Deep breaths. _He then mimes taking a very exaggerated deep breath, and Blaine follows suit. After a few of those, the blush on his face has faded and he doesn't look so overcome with shame and terror. He nods and Kurt grabs his dropped phone, then backs away.

"Ugh, okay..." Blaine says stiffly, his voice a bit nasally from the near-crying, "Let's get this over with."

OoOoOoOoO

Using their found (stolen) bike, Kurt and Blaine make their way to Franklin Street, once again with Blaine behind the helm.

He can remember when riding a bike around this town had been soothing and calming. He would get in a terrible argument with his father, which would nearly always end with the man yelling at Blaine to 'just get out', which meant to take a walk or something for an hour or so until they had both calmed down. Blaine knows his father isn't a bad person, but he does have anger issues. So when they would fight, and Blaine had to get out, he would get on his bright red mountain bike and get out.

Now it has none of its old charm. Even the feeling of speeding down the hill on Jackson Street does nothing for him, because he's worried about Kurt falling off the pegs on the back of this slightly rusted blue and white trash heap.

"We're on Jackson now," Blaine says to Kurt, who he now knows likes to be kept updated. "Franklin isn't too far from here. It's more of an alley than a street, I usually take it on my way home from school. Shouldn't take long."

And thank God for that, Blaine thinks. After yesterday, when he nearly keeled over, he doesn't really want to ride so hard for awhile. They've only been on the bike for about twenty minutes and his calf muscles are already burning.

"Turning right, now. Hang on," he says, and Kurt's grip on his shoulders strengthens as they take a corner, turning onto Wood Street.

Blaine takes his right foot off the peddle and looks down at the ground as they turn, watches his foot skim the pavement, making sure there is no sign of them tipping over. Once they've rounded the corner and made it halfway up the street, he hits the breaks hard in shock at what he sees.

The sudden stop causes Kurt to lose his balance; Blaine barely notices the loss of Kurt's hands on his shoulders or even the feeling of Kurt bumping into his back before tumbling off his perch. He doesn't even stop to help Kurt up off the sidewalk, he just lets him pick himself up and dust himself off, because there is something more important demanding his attention. Blaine has been waiting for the moment when he'll either wake up or the situation he's in really sinks in, because he keeps going back and forth between 'this is real, this actually happened' and 'this is just a dream and I'll wake up soon.'

Before him is the proof, however.

He knows this route like the back of his hand; he takes it to and from school nearly every day. While on the way here he was aware of how close his house is, he didn't say anything because neither he nor Kurt know how much time they'll need to complete the mission once they get there. But he knows this street so well that he is honestly a bit ashamed of himself, underneath the ten metric tons of pure shock, that he did not see this coming.

A television crew is just now leaving the next intersection of Wood and North Street, which is easily seen from his vantage point. The van has the local station's logo on the side along with a satellite dish on top. It goes by him, kicking up a breeze and leaving the stench of exhaust behind it. He isn't paying much attention to that, though. There is a section of the sidewalk taped off at the intersection, and some bits of debris. Blaine can see the remains of a smashed iPod in the middle of the street, its innards scattered around it and its screen in tiny fragments glittering in the sunlight. The street must be closed off because there is no traffic, and he knows from experience that North Street is very busy this time of day.

He is torn out of his shocked state by Kurt grabbing him by the shoulders and spinning him around. _WHAT. THE HELL. WAS THAT? _Kurt says, looking very unhappy. Blaine thinks he would have been yelling if he had a voice. Kurt then launches into a silent tirade that Blaine really can't follow, because after seeing this place, he can't seem to follow anything. He feels like he's been derailed.

Blaine tries briefly to read Kurt's lips, but he's talking too fast for anything to come of it. Eventually, Kurt gives up, flinging his arms up over his head in extreme exasperation. Blaine just watches as Kurt stomps over and gets the bike off the sidewalk, lifting it up entirely from the ground, and stands it up properly. He forcefully puts down the kickstand then puts his hands on his hips with clear-as-day 'I'm waiting' body language.

"This is where I died," Blaine says weakly, not really knowing how that thought found its way out of his head. He feels like he's on autopilot and that his brain-to-mouth filter is short-circuiting.

Kurt's hands slip off his hips. He looks shocked.

"This is where I died... Right there, in the street." Blaine turns to point at the intersection. He is honest-to-God amazed that his hand is steady, considering he's been more emotional than a pregnant woman lately. "I was late getting home, because of Warblers rehearsal. My dad was going to be really mad at me. I was listening to my iPod. I got hit by a truck."

Blaine doesn't know exactly what he's feeling right now. It's something similar to panic, or dread, or maybe guilt. Maybe all three at once, making some strange new emotion that has his heart pounding and his head swimming and his breath hitching. It's getting harder to draw a breath, it's getting harder to stay standing. He feels like invisible iron bands are closing around his chest, like the ground is tilting below his feet. He feels strange, disconnected from himself.

Kurt comes into his line of vision, looking rather afraid. He's saying something, over-enunciating as he must, but Blaine is far too distracted. "I'm dead," he mutters, "Oh, God. Oh, _God_." Blaine brings his hands up to cover his face.

Of course he knew before now, but he was still in some lingering sense of denial. Now, seeing the evidence...

The bits of his smashed iPod...

The skid marks...

The yellow crime scene tape...

the dark splatter mark on the concrete...

OoOoOoOoO

Kurt is hesitant to fling their bike around, because it's really their only mode of transportation. But, while Blaine is busy with his (understandable) freak out, Kurt is busy trying to scare away the three Noise that came slinking out from the shadows only moments ago while Blaine was talking about how he died here. Kurt's only ever seen pictures of bobcats in an outdoorsman magazine from 1997 that his dad keeps in the lobby of his car shop, but even with the decay and distorted features, Kurt knows that these are Bobcat Noise.

He has his Psychokinesis pin in hand. He extends the Psych out of the pin that holds it and wraps it around the bike. In the back of his mind, he finds himself comparing it to telekinesis. He also remembers Blaine calling Psychs 'crazy Harry Potter magic'. He chuckles at the silly comparison, but the thought of Blaine, who is probably suffering a goddamn panic attack right now, makes Kurt's stomach drop. Blaine is next to useless against Noise when he's not already upset, so at the moment he is a sitting target, waiting to be struck down. If that happens, Kurt would not only feel absolutely terrible, but he would be dead on the water. So to speak.

The Bobcats are pouncing everywhere, trying to divide his attention. He can't afford to be distracted. He flings the bike as he hops backwards out of the way of sharp, far-too-long claws swiping at his shins.

The bike hits one of the Bobcats, then bounces and clatters loudly to the ground. The Bobcat flinches and hisses, and it's not like a regular cat hiss; it's like the thing has phlegm and gunk and who-knows-what caught in its throat. It is disgusting and Kurt doesn't think he has ever been so terrified or so full of adrenaline.

Kurt sees the second Bobcat prowling up on him and he dodges when it leaps, leading him into grabbing a trash can with his Psych and tossing it at the first while the third runs in a wide circle around and behind him. The trash can misses and rolls away, its contents flying everywhere.

He realizes he's running out of options with this pin, so he decides to try another. He remembers giving Blaine two of his pins yesterday, so he only has two others. He escapes two more claw swipes by a hair's breadth as he pulls them from his pocket; he doesn't spare more than a passing glance at them before clutching a blue one in his hand, desperate for it to work.

This one is harder for him to wrap his mind around, or whatever it is he does to get the Psychs to work. He can feel it, but it seems 'farther away' than the Psychokinesis pin. With a great deal of fight, he manages to activate the Psych and feels the soon-to-be familiar feeling of energy racing up his arm, as though the appendage is connected to a live wire. Only without the electrocution. He remembers how Blaine struggled with finding out how to get the Lightning Bolt pin to work yesterday and hopes he doesn't have such a problem, as he is currently dancing around three angry Bobcats and doesn't have time to flail around like an idiot.

One of the Bobcats leaps and lands just in front of him, and he acts on pure instinct. He makes a sweeping gesture with his arm, as though to scare the cat away. What happens, though, is a rather decent-sized rock, about the size of a basketball, appearing out of nowhere just above him and landing squarely on the Noise, which shrieks in pain and then combusts into static.

As he celebrates internally (and wonders how on Earth a little pin made of tin and plastic can make a freaking meteorite), one of the two remaining Bobcats pounces from behind and slashes his back, shredding his shirt.

He would scream in pain if he had a voice.

OoOoOoOoO

He feels rooted to the spot, like he's watching a horror movie. He realizes that maybe he is watching a horror movie, only he's one of the characters.

Blaine wants to go inspect the site of his death, filled with morbid fascination. That's his blood splattered on the road. That's his iPod laying in pieces, the earbuds nowhere to be seen. The skid marks are from that truck, the one that hit him, the one that killed him.

He's never been very squeamish; not much more than any normal person, anyway. His friend Jeff likes to skateboard, and Blaine would sometimes watch him at the skate park, when he wasn't expected at home before five o'clock. But Blaine remembers one time when Jeff took a bad fall and skinned his arm. There was blood running from it, dripping onto Jeff's shirt, and Blaine had marveled at Jeff's ability to not freak out and start crying or something, all while trying not to freak out himself. Instead, Jeff merely huffed unhappily because it meant they would have to leave to get some hydrogen peroxide on it.

Right now, Blaine just wants to go over there and see where he died up close, to see if there is any other evidence. More than just a bloodstain on the road. Like, maybe a few teeth got knocked out or something. He subconsciously runs his tongue around in his mouth, finding all teeth present and accounted for. It means nothing to him, of course, because he's sure that whatever wounds caused by being hit by a truck would be substantial and lasting, more than just a scrape and a bump on the head. Especially with that much blood. But he had taken inventory the other day and found himself to be as fit as he had been before the truck hit him. All he really wants to do is look, maybe see if someone has put one of those plywood crosses up yet, as is customary in these parts when someone dies near a road. He wonders if Kurt would mind if he went to look.

Thinking of Kurt, Blaine turns around to see where his partner went to. He is immediately shocked out of his stupor by the sight of Kurt trying to fight off two Bobcat Noise, the back of his shirt ripped with speckles of blood coming through.

"Kurt!" Blaine shouts, and Kurt looks over at him. Blaine can see the fright on his paler-than-usual face, and knows he needs to help. But he can't do it, Kurt is good at Psychs and Blaine peddles the bike. That's how this works.

_HELP, _Kurt says, right before leaping back awkwardly from one of the Bobcats, nearly losing his balance and stumbling. The Bobcat continues its ruthless pursuit and Kurt is wearing out. And no way Blaine can just stand here while Kurt is taken down, even if he is a total coward and can't do anything right. He pushes away those dark thoughts and tries to find some semblance of sanity, trying to find his footing after seeing what he just saw. He is afraid, but he has to push through it. He knows he doesn't have a choice.

Blaine instantly reaches into his pocket and takes out his handful of pins. He looks them over frantically, trying to forget how hard it had been to activate the Lightning Bolt pin yesterday. His eyes keep going back to one with a simple flame design on it, one he hadn't considered since he got it. When he picks it out of the palm of his hand, it throbs once in his fingers like a heartbeat.

Kurt runs over to him, limping a bit. He grabs onto Blaine to keep himself upright, but only stands there panting. Blaine has no idea what to do, other than try to keep Kurt from falling over; the Bobcats are stalking closer, clearly confident in their inevitable win.

Kurt looks up at Blaine from his hunched-over position. He's panting and pale-faced._ Can't do anymore. Please._

And that's it, because Kurt loses his grip on Blaine's arms and slides to the ground, his eyes unfocused.

Blaine gapes down at Kurt, then looks up at the Bobcats. They are both sitting, their rotting tails curled around their hideous feet, their long ears twitching, and their slanted cat eyes are squinting slightly. Blaine is familiar with the look, because he's had a cat before, and they tend do that when they leave a squeak toy in your path and you step on it, or when they barf on your bed. Kind of like 'Gotcha, dipshit.'

He doesn't look back at Kurt, because he knows that if he does, he'll use his partner's injuries as a pretense to not fight these horrible things. He knows he'll have to do this eventually. He can't keep putting off fighting and using Psychs. Kurt is depending on him. They're partners and they need to work together and help each other.

Blaine grips the pin tightly. He hadn't even had time to look on the back of it, where most pins have the name of their Psych seemingly scratched in.

He feels a surge of power ignite from the pin, race up his arm and stop somewhere near his collar bone. His whole right arm is tingling and hot like it's on fire but not being burned. He doesn't waste any time to try and figure it out.

One of the Bobcats seems to notice the activation of the Psych and stands. It prowls closer to Blaine, its lifeless eyes laughing at him in some strange way that scares him.

"Get back!" Blaine barks, surprised at his tone. He stands in front of Kurt to protect him. "Get back or so help me God." He raises his right fist.

The Bobcats don't appear to be listening; instead, the second twitches its tail and stands as well.

Blaine bites his lip. He can feel the build-up of energy, just like yesterday. But he doesn't even know what this one does. He could try taking a swing at the Noise again but something tells him that had been pure luck.

He feels a tug on his slacks and looks down at Kurt. Kurt is staring up at him, looking pitiful. _You can do it, _he says. _I know you can._

Blaine swallows thickly and turns back to the Noise, who are much closer. Not much time left for introspecting or trying to figure this out. He is filled with a sensation of being frozen in terror. He remembers feeling like this the first time he had a solo in front of an audience with the Warblers. The lights blinding him, barely able to see the faces of the people in the auditorium, his friends behind him, waiting for him to start so they could join in with the a cappella arrangement.

What had he done to combat the stage fright then? The classic 'imagine they're in their underwear' hadn't helped then, because he couldn't see the audience very well, and it certainly wouldn't help now. Taking a deep, calming breath might work. He tries that, but even the lung full of air seems inadequate and he wants to try again but knows somewhere that this will lead to him eventually hyperventilating again so he gives up on the deep breathing.

The Bobcat closest to him leaps claws-first, aiming for a fatal blow to the neck.

Blaine reacts immediately; he stumbles back. The Noise misses his jugular but snags his blazer, right on his shoulder; all it gets with its claws is fabric. The thing's claws must be razor-sharp because instead of a jagged rip, the Noise's claw runs clean through the thick fabric of his blazer like freshly-sharpened scissors.

He manages to get away as the Noise lands and hisses and shrieks in anger at the miss. Blaine realizes he's left Kurt open; while one Bobcat comes after him, seething, the second starts walking up to Kurt almost lazily.

There is a sudden pang in his hand; he is afraid it might be the pin malfunctioning. He cautiously opens his hand to look down at his palm, where the pin is sitting, glowing like a briquette of charcoal. Underneath it is Blaine's timer, which has just ticked past an hour.

It only just then occurs to Blaine that they are on a time limit here, and that they only have just less than three and a half hours to finish the mission. That he was the one that stopped here, that this is all his fault.

Kurt got hurt because of him.

He's in this situation, fighting these Noise, he's scared to death, he feels like he may just pass out from the stress and the terror in his heart, and it's his own fault.

The guilt and shame flare up inside him, but below it is some kind of determination to make things right that he must have forgotten about until now. He latches onto that one little ember of hope and is desperate for this to freaking work.

A bright red flame bursts to life at Blaine's feet, leaping happily like a little campfire. Blaine doesn't have time to stand here and marvel at it; still struggling to hold on to the something in his psyche that is making this work, he directs the flame toward the Noise creeping toward Kurt, who is nearly unconscious by this point.

The fire travels like a snake, leaving a trail behind that burns just over the sidewalk. It wiggles and swerves like a living thing, then finds its target and the Bobcat erupts in cherry-red fire. It screams in pain, writhes around, and even bumps into Kurt's slumped over form, but the fire doesn't seem to bother him. The Noise is erased in seconds and the flame dissipates, only to regroup again at Blaine's feet.

He turns to stare down the other Bobcat. It looks much more wary of him now, taking a more defensive stance with its ears flat against its head and its tail curled around its rotted body. He fakes a lunge at it, and the Noise startles and turns tail to run into the shadows.

Once Blaine is sure the Noise is gone and isn't just gathering reinforcements, he lets go of the spark and the Psych he had worked so hard to bring out fizzles and vanishes. He doesn't waste much time lamenting it; as the energy drains from him and the pin goes back to being just a pin, Blaine jogs back to Kurt.

"Kurt!" he cries as he gets close. He kneels next to him and puts an arm around his shoulders to keep him upright. "Kurt, are you okay? Hey," Blaine gives Kurt a careful little shake; Kurt's eyes are closed but his face is tight with pain. "Hey. C'mon. Please tell me you saw that. I actually did it right this time!" Blaine jokes lamely.

Kurt cracks his eyes open and looks up at Blaine. Then he smiles.

_I saw it... You were great._

Blaine feels something deep within him well up, just like what he had grabbed onto in desperation when trying to get the Psych to activate. It feels like he had just had a big, hot meal, or like he is all curled up under a warm blanket. It feels warm and cozy.

He smiles widely at Kurt, who grins back with his bright eyes sparkling.

OoOoOoOoO

At the moment, Kurt is lamenting not having any kind of mild pain killer on hand. He sits up, not feeling quite as dizzy but still feeling the sting in his back. The scratches feel too deep to actually call them scratches, but not deep enough to call them cuts. He can already feel the pop of scabbed-over skin breaking as he sits up straight. He looks at Blaine, who makes immediate eye contact, expecting Kurt to say something.

_Can you look at it?_ Kurt asks shyly, pointing his thumb at his back, _See how bad it is?_

Blaine blinks once. "It's bad?" he says, his voice thin.

Kurt scoffs. _No. I don't know. SEE HOW BAD IT IS. _

"Oh! You want me to look at it?" Blaine asks.

Kurt nods. He unbuttons his shirt, then tries to shrug out of it. The motion pulls at the scratches and he hisses through his teeth. He can feel a new rivulet of blood trailing down his back and run into the shirt. It feels disgusting. Blaine immediately scrambles behind Kurt and takes the shirt by the collar. "Here," Blaine says quietly, "let me help."

Kurt feels his face burn with blushing as Blaine eases the ruined shirt off of him. He tries not to think about how he is now shirtless in front of a cute boy for the first time in his miserable life and he's horribly disfigured.

Blaine tuts softly. "I don't think it's too bad," he says, "It might hurt a lot, but it's not too deep. We can just wrap it up so you don't bleed everywhere and so it doesn't get dirt in it. Not much we can do about the pain, though." There is sympathy in his voice as he says the last part.

Kurt turns carefully to look at Blaine over his bare shoulder. _Bandages?_

Blaine looks down at Kurt's shirt, and Kurt sighs in resignation. "Oh, come on," Blaine says with a little laugh, "It's better than nothing! It's already ruined anyway, it's not like you could wear it again. The back is all shredded up. Here, you can have my blazer. It got a little torn up but at least it'll cover you up." Blaine takes his blazer off and sets it next to Kurt, then starts tearing the shirt into strips. Kurt cringes with the sound.

As Blaine works on the makeshift bandages, Kurt pulls the blazer onto his lap. He finds Blaine's Player pin. He'll have to take it off and hand it back to Blaine. Then there's the Warblers pin, right next to an embroidered patch with a fancy-looking 'D' on it. He tries to think of any private school in the area that starts with a 'D', because only a private school would require a uniform. The only one he can think of is Dalton, which is when he remembers that the Warblers are from Dalton. The Warblers that made it to Nationals this year and came in seventeenth place. In Kurt's opinion, that wasn't bad, but he is sure that if the New Directions hadn't been disbanded after losing their first Regionals last year they would have made it to Nationals and taken the whole damn thing. Vocal Adrenaline or not.

Blaine reaches around Kurt's waist with a strip of what was once a nice shirt. "Hold still, okay? I'll try not to wrap it too tight, but if I do just- um, smack me or something." He had clearly wanted to say 'just say so', but obviously Kurt can't. Kurt is finding his entry fee to be quite problematic; he is so used to expressing everything with his voice that he feels like he's at a severe disadvantage. When threatened at school he had always fought back with words. Blaine, he suspects, paid with his confidence. Kurt feels like Blaine got off light but of course can't say so. Not just because he physically can't, but because it isn't Blaine's fault that he values his confidence over any other aspect of his self. Still, as Blaine starts winding the fabric around Kurt's torso, Kurt laments the loss while appreciating the idea behind it. He certainly won't take advantage of his ability to say anything ever again. Even if he may have had times where he hated his higher-than-average voice, right now all he wants to do is be able to vent and talk to someone and be heard, damn it.

While Blaine is wrapping the fabric around him, Kurt is sitting there on the sidewalk trying not to puke up the butterflies in his stomach. Every time Blaine's fingers brush over his bare skin Kurt feels that spot tingle and he has to resist the urge to shiver. He knows this feeling, because he struggled with it with Finn, and had to keep it to himself when that Sam Evans kid moved to McKinley. Knowing his batting record so far, Blaine would be completely straight, just more friendly than most straight guys. Kurt would even be alright with Blaine being bisexual, because Blaine has something that Finn and Sam never could. Kurt can't even put a finger on it; it's something he would never expect from another guy, but something that makes him think of his mother.

His mother... Tenderness. Kindness. Gentle touches. Caring. Warm smiles. Understanding.

Kurt wants to get away from Blaine but not be more than a foot away at the same time. He can't afford this right now, they're in the middle of a literal game of life and death. This is not the ideal setting for romance.

Once Blaine has finished, he gives Kurt a gentle pat on the side. "All done. Feel any better?"

Kurt nods shakily and makes the universal 'a little' gesture by holding up his hand and showing his thumb and finger a millimeter apart. Blaine nods once as he stands and takes the blazer out of Kurt's lap, helps Kurt up, and holds his hand against Kurt's elbow to make sure he's steady. After taking his Player pin off and reattaching it to his dress shirt, Blaine holds the blazer out for Kurt, then helps him into it. Kurt is blushing again, and he doesn't know how to handle all this. Whenever he had minor to moderate injuries from the bullies shoving him into lockers, he'd had to patch himself up. Having someone do it for him, someone so good-looking, who is male, with such gentle touches and such warm hands... Well, he doesn't really know what to think.

Once the battlefield first-aid is done, Kurt glances down at his hand. Less than three hours to go. He looks over to Blaine, wanting to show him the timer as a way to tell him they need to get moving, but Blaine is already walking towards their fallen bike with a definite spring in his step. Kurt suspects Blaine is very proud of himself for having mastered at least one pin.

Kurt follows him, trying to ignore the steady throb of his back clashing with the steady throb of his timer, as well as ignore the thought that he might be falling for his partner.

OoOoOoOoO

Franklin Street isn't much farther from North Street. Blaine had felt insanely nervous crossing that street again, especially with Kurt hanging onto his shoulders. Even if there isn't any traffic.

He'd had to promise many times not to make them crash again to get Kurt on the bike. Blaine feels so awful about what just happened, he would promise Kurt anything his heart desires to make up for it. His bottom lip hurts from how hard he bit it while tending to Kurt a moment ago, trying to keep his guilt in check. As well as the undeniable thrill of seeing Kurt shirtless, war wound aside. Kurt is remarkably lithe and built like a dancer, and his skin is soft all over. Blaine had to resist the strong urge to just caress it, just once, because that would be super weird.

Upon arriving at one end of Franklin Street, Blaine comes to a careful stop and Kurt hops off the pegs lightly. "Well, here we are," Blaine says as he puts down the kickstand. The two of them then stand at the end of the alley looking in.

Blaine notices that it's darker in the alley than it is out here on the sidewalk. He looks up with a curious frown, expecting to see clouds blocking the sun, but the sky is clear and the sun is just shy of directly overhead. The antique charm of his favorite shortcut is lost in an eerie cloud of tangible darkness that he can't explain, like a cloud of ink in water.

He hears Kurt takes a deep breath, apparently bracing himself. Blaine watches him march into the dark alley with his head held high. He fidgets nervously before following.

As soon as he crosses the threshold of the alley, he feels cold and the darkness presses in. It's like he's walked into a dark building with no windows, or like it's suddenly night time, and the air is all musty and humid, like in a basement that's recently been flooded. He can still kind of see, but after being out in the bright sunshine, it takes his eyes a moment to adjust. Once he can make out distinct shapes, he notices that he can't see more than a few feet in any direction, even as he walks forward, like there is a very dim spotlight following him.

"Kurt?" he calls, unable to see him. Then he remembers that Kurt has no voice and can't call back. "O-okay. Kurt... Listen, just, like... Grab my hand, if you can find it."

Blaine sticks his hand straight out in front of him, his fingers splayed out. Nothing happens; he doesn't even hear footsteps.

"...Kurt?"

OoOoOoOoO

The alley is dark, and it is slightly unnerving. It's a lot creepier than it seemed a few minutes ago.

Kurt's footsteps echo slightly around him. He remembers hearing about how people who are blind rely entirely on their other senses and those senses are therefore much stronger. He wonders if he can tell how far away the walls are just by the echoing of his footsteps.

He lifts his arm up and out to his side, trying to graze his fingertips against the wall as he slowly walks forward. The wall hadn't been that far away when he entered the alley; maybe not within arm's reach, but close. He stops walking so that he can gingerly inch his way to the side, trying to find the wall.

Eventually his fingers touch the brick wall of the attorney's office that makes up this side of the alley. It feels rough, but also very cold.

Kurt frowns and draws his hand back.

Still no sign of any Noise; from his experience, they don't tend to be very stealthy. And they have the advantage in this dark, anyway, so he doesn't really know what the holdup is. It's making him a bit nervous.

It strikes him as odd that he isn't absolutely losing his shit right now. He's been remarkably calm all throughout the Game, and he assumes it's a survival instinct. If he freaks out (like Blaine is prone to do), they don't have a chance. But still, the only time he's lost it was right when he found he was dead. He feels like, at some point, he ought to have the same kind of moment that Blaine had earlier today, where he has to stop and just try to breathe because it's hit him like a ton of freaking bricks. This really is happening. But he supposes that he already had that moment as the oddly familiar woman told him all about this stupid Game of hers.

Kurt sighs unhappily at the thought of Blaine earlier. He really wishes he had a voice so he could've been more helpful to his partner.

At the thought of his partner, Kurt turns around, expecting to see him following behind, possibly terror-stricken at the darkness. But Blaine isn't there at all; just the same kind of unnatural inky blackness.

Something isn't right.

OoOoOoOoO

"Oh my God, Kurt, seriously, this is not even funny, I am freaking out here..."

Blaine is shuffling around in the darkness, afraid of bumping into something. Even though he knows Franklin better than any other street because of how fond he is of it, he doesn't remember where exactly the old wicker chairs are, or where the potted hibiscus is, or where the big pothole is. Knowing his luck, he'd totally twist his ankle in that pothole.

"Kurt..." he whines, his voice going up an octave in fright. The stress of the day is really getting to him. He doesn't know how much of this bullshit he can take without going absolutely insane.

He decides to stand still. That's what he was always told by his mother, when he was a kid; if he got lost, just stay put and she would find him. She lost him in a supermarket once while he was staring wide-eyed at a display of Game Boys, and she found him before he even knew he was lost. He sincerely wishes Kurt would find him, because being here, all alone in the cold dark where Noise could jump out and get him in an instant... It's making him nervous.

He hears something far off, and it reminds him of how he heard music fading away in his right ear when he woke up on the first day. This sound he can hear just fine with both ears, but it still seems far off. It's someone's voice, so he knows it isn't Kurt, and that doesn't help his nerves.

"I'm going to chase it your way! Here it comes!" It sounds like a girl's voice, and it's echoing down from the other side of the alley.

Blaine automatically turns toward the sound of someone else's voice, regardless of how far away it is.

"Got it!" a different female voice barks, and it's so close that it makes Blaine jump about three feet in the air.

He sets his hand against his chest, right over his wildly beating heart. Before he can calm down, or even think to say anything to the girl that is apparently a few feet away, the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, his skin crawls, and he feels like he's being watched.

He looks around, and not to his surprise, he sees countless sets of glowing eyes glaring at him.

OoOoOoOoO

It's been awhile since he last heard that voice. Even so, Kurt is absolutely sure that it's Rachel Berry. He cringes inwardly.

"Wow, this guy's tough! I bet you'd be able to take it out with your Shockwave pin, Quinn, I think it's weak against Positive Psychs... I'm going to chase it your way!"

Kurt feels like he may have lost his sanity, because, first of all, it seems he can't escape Rachel even in the afterlife. Second, he had no idea there was any difference between Psychs, that certain ones worked better against certain Noise, and how is it that Rachel Berry found this out before he did?

"Here it comes!"

The air stirs strangely and suddenly there is a wall of sound. Kurt has to clap his hands over his ears as the sound of a high-pitched shriek, microphone feedback, and nails on a chalkboard slams into him from the left.

He takes his hands away from his ears gingerly, though they're still ringing a bit. He checks his hands for any blood, something he had joked about in Glee club when Rachel would get her inevitable solos. Thankfully there seems to be no lasting damage; if Rachel ruined his pitch-perfect hearing with her screaming he would murder her in her sleep.

"Oh I really don't like this pin. No way my voice sounds like that..." says Rachel's voice. Kurt wishes he could say something. Oh he wants to be snarky, he wants to so bad. "Oh well... I guess I'm stuck with it."

There are more sounds now; growling, hissing, and other angry animal sounds. Kurt looks around for any evidence of Noise but sees nothing. He needs to find Blaine, because no doubt he's gotten himself into trouble.

But just as there's no Noise, there's no Blaine.

OoOoOoOoO

Blaine takes out his Pyrokinesis pin, his new favorite, the one that makes fire. It makes sense in his head and he doesn't have to fight so hard to get it to work. Plus fire makes light so he should be able to find Kurt.

The flame appears at his feet again, shedding light on the ground. He feels comforted by its presence, like a child with a night light. He looks around; the Noise hiss and try to hide from the light. For the moment he ignores them, hoping they'll stay away for a moment, instead looking for the girl nearby.

He finds her, farther away than he thought. She's barely within the radius of light his Psych is generating. She's one of those girls that was not graced with good looks; mousy hair, chubby, and a big nose. Blaine feels a pang of sympathy for her; he knows how shallow people can be and figures she must have heard every snide remark under the sun at school.

"Hey!" he calls, and the poor girl jumps nearly as bad as Blaine had earlier. "Sorry, sorry. I didn't mean to scare you-"

"I'm a little busy here!" the girl says in a bossy tone. At first Blaine is taken aback by the rudeness, but is then struck with curiosity. He had expected her to be quiet and shy. Shows him for judging by appearances. The girl is currently swiping her arm like she's pretend sword fighting, but a barely-visible flash of light is extending from her closed fist as she swings. Blaine knows a Psych when he sees it by this point.

The Noise she's fighting is still in shadow, but Blaine can see its outline, and there is no mistaking it; a Snake. It's reared up and much, much larger than any snake native to Ohio. Or even the Amazon, now that Blaine thinks about it. The girl is swiping furiously, breaking a sweat and trying to stay light on her feet.

"...Do you want some help?" Blaine offers, trying to be a gentleman.

"Are you stupid or something? !" the girl yells back, sparing him a look. Then she turns right back to the Snake, which lunges at her, catching her by surprise.

Blaine reacts and sends his fire toward the Snake, urging it to move faster. The Snake is caught in it and starts writhing and hissing and thrashing around; its huge tail swings by the girl that had been fighting it. She leaps in the air, surprisingly graceful, jumping the Snake's tail like a jump rope. As she comes down, she strikes with her Psych, hitting the Noise squarely on the head, killing it instantly.

Blaine stands in shock, as this girl pretty much demolished that huge, terrifying Noise without so much as a twitch of her nose. He feels like he ought to congratulate her or something; he's still scared shitless of the Noise.

She is walking over to him, a swagger in her step that is so at odds with her appearance that Blaine wonders what she would be like outside of the Game. She grabs him by the tie and yanks him closer, so their noses are a mere centimeter apart.

"You tried to steal my kill, hobbit."

OoOoOoOoO

The far-away light flickers and wraps itself around what looks like a huge snake. Kurt knows it's Blaine's Psych; it's cherry-red coloration, the way it moves, the way it lights up whatever is close.

He starts running toward the light source, knowing Blaine will be close. He doesn't make it very far, though.

He runs right into what feels like a person, and that person ends up falling right on top of Kurt as he goes down. He is thankfully able to keep from hitting his head, but his back takes the brunt of the fall and his eyes water from the pain erupting from the still-fresh wounds. He can feel them oozing blood again. He is extremely uncomfortable, as well as positive that this person is a female due to her assets now pressing against his chest. "Oh!" the girl says, and he realizes it's Rachel. "Oh my God, wow, are you a Noise? Are you trying to get me?" She giggles, not sounding at all like the Rachel Berry Kurt knew in school. That Rachel was all business, desperate to be a star. The disbanding of the Glee club probably hit her hardest because of all the emotion she had invested in it. This Rachel... She seemed lost in a haze of mild amusement and a sort of innocence. In Kurt's expert opinion, she seems high.

Kurt shoves her off and she scoffs, offended. That's more like Rachel. "Tuh... if you wanted me to get up you could have said so, you don't need to shove me or anything."

He doesn't even try to say something as he keeps shoving at her, trying to get his precious personal space back. She refuses to budge, though.

"Aren't you going to say something? You're being really rude," Rachel says in a monotone, as though Kurt's rudeness doesn't really bother her that much.

As the two of them shove and bicker and carry on, the distant light of Blaine's Psych comes closer, with Blaine himself not far behind.

"Kurt! Kurt...! Where'd you go? There's a crazy girl after me!"

Kurt slaps his hand against his forehead. This is getting ridiculous. He raises a hand in half-hearted, exasperated greeting as Blaine spots him.

"Oh, thank God, there you are- oh, did you find someone too? Is she as crazy as the other one?" His voice cracks at the end.

"I am not crazy, you idiot! I'll high kick you right in the teeth. Not that it would be much of a high kick!"

Blaine, who rolls his eyes at the short joke as if he's heard every variation, is joined by a rather plain girl who has way too much sass. She is regarding Blaine with bored contempt, but quickly switches to Rachel. "Hey, manhands. Did you get those other Snakes or not?"

Rachel is currently picking under nails. The other three are silent as she squints at her pinky nail, clearly disconcerted by whatever has worked its way underneath it.

"Rachel!" the new girl barks, and everyone jumps at her bossy tone. Rachel looks up, seemingly not bothered.

"What?"

"Did you get the rest or not?"

Rachel sighs a little sigh and flattens her olive skirt against her legs. Kurt really thinks she needs to wear something besides these little tiny schoolgirl/librarian skirts, because the effect is making him nauseous. "No, Quinn, I didn't. Okay? They ran off, over there." Rachel points behind her, jerking her thumb over her shoulder.

Quinn looks over at Blaine, who looks bemused at the exchange. "You two boys wait here with her. You totally punked my kill, shorty, so if you don't stay put I won't hesitate to chop you in half."

Blaine holds his hands up in surrender, his Psych shrinking down and sputtering away as he tries to form words to make a decent response. Instead of waiting for Blaine to quit stammering, Quinn marches off into the darkness.

Kurt looks up at Blaine as he frowns and starts up his Pyrokinesis pin again, bringing back a bit of light. Blaine looks back and they make eye contact. _I went to school with these two, _Kurt says, and Blaine's eyebrows shoot up. _This one's Rachel._

"Oh, really? Famous Rachel Berry? The one with the annoying YouTube videos, singing into a hairbrush?"

"What about my hairbrush?" Rachel asks. Kurt and Blaine both ignore her. She doesn't seem too bothered about it, going back to half-heartedly picking at her nails.

_Right... The other one was Quinn Fabray, apparently, but she didn't look anything like Quinn. It sure sounded like her, though._

"Oh.. Wait. Say the first part again," Blaine says, frowning as he tries to figure out in his head what Kurt is trying to say.

_THAT WAS QUINN FABRAY. BUT IT DOESN'T LOOK LIKE HER._

Blaine shrugs. "Maybe it wasn't really her, then. Maybe it's a coincidence."

_But it was her voice, even! I bet they took her appearance as her entry fee. She was head of the Cheerios and a total snob... She would value her good looks over everything else in her life. She's that shallow. She got pregnant last year and instead of being worried about how it would wreck her life, she was upset about being kicked out of the Cheerios! I mean, hello, PRIORITIES._

Blaine stares back blankly. After a short pause, he says, "All I got out of that was something about Cheerios and pregnancy."

Overcome with frustration, Kurt opens his mouth to scream and yell, but of course there's nothing. He gets on his feet and starts pacing, looking for something to hit, something to take down, something to _damage beyond repair_. He has to try very hard to keep his eyes off Blaine, who is murmuring the bits of what Kurt had said that he caught, trying to figure it out for himself like the puzzle on Wheel of Fortune.

Rachel is looking between the two, trying to follow the conversation. Kurt frowns at her as she stares him down.

"How come you aren't talking, but he is?" she asks, pointing to Blaine.

Kurt gestures harshly to his throat and shakes his head. Blaine jumps in for him, "They took his voice as his entry fee," he says sadly as Kurt returns to his angry pacing. "He gets mad at me like this all the time 'cause I can never understand what he's trying to say."

_I don't know how much clearer I can be, damn it!_ Kurt rages at Blaine, who goes back to his previous defensive stance. _I'm sick of talking to you like you... like you speak Russian or something! It takes forever to say anything to you because 'you can't read lips'! Well smart guy, how are we gonna do this if you can't hear me? ! How are we going to do this if I have to stop everything and spell out everything I say? !_

Blaine starts to back away. He looks very afraid, but it only makes Kurt angrier. "Okay, look. I get you're upset. Okay? J-just calm down, okay? Getting mad isn't gonna help us."

"Hey," Rachel says, "Look, guys. There's those Snakes I chased away earlier! I bet Quinn brought them back so I could take them out." Rachel looks down at her nails. "But I don't really feel like it... There's a hangnail I've been trying to get for the past two days..." and she starts picking at her cuticle.

Kurt spins around to see a whole horde of Snakes advancing. Quinn is behind them, fighting her way through with what looks like a Shockwave pin. Kurt looks back at Blaine, who stands there wide-eyed.

_Come on! We have to clear these Noise out!_

As if on cue, there is a sharp pain in his palm, almost as bad as the timer starting; by the way the other three gasp and jerk, they feel it too. Another hour gone.

_Now!_ Kurt snarls at Blaine, not having the patience for coaxing his partner through another battle. He turns and digs for his own pins, taking Apport in hand and firing it up.

OoOoOoOoO

Blaine stands guard by Rachel, who is still sitting on the ground picking at her hangnail. He has ignited his Pyrokinesis pin again and the fire is lapping happily at his feet, but he holds back.

The battle itself isn't like those he's seen in movies, where a hero goes running in and practically dances around, missing enemy blows and taking the bad guys down with unparalleled grace. While Kurt is very graceful, he certainly isn't unscathed. Given his recent injury from the Noise, he isn't as nimble. He is able to dodge most of the attacks, and he has a lot of lucky misses, though.

There are basketball-sized meteorites falling everywhere. They strike against the Snakes and some go down hissing, while others just shake it off. The rocks bounce and hit multiple targets, but against a huge mob of Noise it doesn't seem to do much good.

Blaine can't watch anymore; he grabs Rachel by the arm and yanks her up onto her feet. She whines in protest but he isn't listening.

"Come on! We have to help them!"

Rachel sighs and fixes the hem of her skirt, then gives Blaine a sweet smile. "If you say so."

They run into the battle; Blaine flinging the fire everywhere and hoping it doesn't cause damage to Kurt or the girls. He doesn't hear any human-sounding shrieks of pain, only the inhuman, grating sound of Noise being erased. He finds Kurt being accosted by three Snakes at once, trying to dodge their lightning-quick strikes with their fangs.

"Kurt!" Blaine calls, and Kurt turns unsteadily.

Blaine arrives next to Kurt and starts directing the fire around them. Kurt grabs onto his left arm, and Blaine feels something strange at Kurt's touch. He can't afford to be distracted. He shakes Kurt off and instead wraps his arm around Kurt's waist, keeping him up.

Quinn and Rachel are working in perfect unison. Quinn is grouping the Noise together with her Shockwave pin, and Rachel takes them all out at once with her very loud Psych.

_Street Jam,_ Kurt says, and Blaine just barely sees the lip movement out of the corner of his eye.

"Street Jam? Is that Rachel's Psych?" Kurt nods as he brings more meteorites down.

"More coming in from behind you, Rachel!" Quinn says in her bossy voice, "Take those out and then get over to the other side of the alley, I think that's where they're coming in from!"

"Got it!" Rachel chirps happily, followed by the screech of her Street Jam pin.

Blaine frowns. He wishes that he and Kurt could work together like that, but it really isn't possible to yell across a battlefield when one of them has no voice. He readjusts his grip on Kurt, who is starting to squirm a bit.

Kurt puts a hand against Blaine's chest and starts pushing; Blaine looks over to see his eyes blown wide with fear and he looks behind them. Blaine turns just in time to see three more Snakes behind them, these bigger than the rest. The two of them manage to scramble away just as one of the Snakes snaps its jaws around the space they had just been occupying.

As Blaine regains his sense of balance, he flings his arm out and directs his fire toward the Snakes. Two of the Noise take off in different directions; the third catches fire like a pile of dry, dead leaves. Kurt assaults it with falling rocks, but their combined efforts seem to only make the Snake angry.

Blaine, hoping to keep the panic at bay for as long as possible, looks around briefly, trying to find where the other two went. Not to his surprise, Quinn and Rachel have already cleared out the rest of the Noise and are trying to take out one of the bigger ones. That means there's one that's unaccounted for.

The Snake he and Kurt are fighting shakes the fire off which fades out as Blaine finally starts to panic. Kurt turns quickly to glare at him. What are you doing? he says, and Blaine takes a few big gulps of air before switching out his Pyrokinesis pin for the Lightning Bolt.

He digs deep, like he does with Pyrokinesis, but this one is so much deeper and so much harder to get. It's so annoying and so scary. If this doesn't work he's screwed. He can't keep depending on Kurt like this. Has he to get this right. He grits his teeth and squeezes his eyes shut, determined to get it, because their life depends on it.

He can feel the other three running around him; he can tell when it's Kurt, but the other two girls are harder. They are going this way and that and he's getting distracted, damn it.

"Hobbit!" Blaine looks up at Quinn's voice, only to see the third Snake quickly approaching.

"Holy shit!" he cries, and the Snake is upon him before he can even finish swearing. It rears up, and Blaine tries to figure out what to do. And it strikes, its fangs pearly white and very sharp, and he again reacts on instinct and lashes out with a punch, a quick right hook.

He hits the Snake, but that isn't all that happens; as it recoils, it begins thrashing and twitching as it erupts with electricity, which arcs and chases after the other two Snakes. They attempt to dodge it but they aren't fast enough. Blaine himself has ducked away, muttering at the pain in his hand from hitting something without having it wrapped, which is what he's used to.

Within the space of three seconds or so they're all erased, and Blaine is standing there, shaking his hand out. He looks up, cussing darkly under his breath. He notices Kurt, Quinn and Rachel staring back at him, dumbfounded, as well as the absence of the Noise.

He smiles brightly, slightly out of breath. "Oh, did you guys get them?"

Kurt starts walking over, and Blaine is afraid he may be angry, because as far as Blaine knows he only got one of the big Snakes while the others took out the rest. Instead, Kurt leaps at him and Blaine catches him in a hug on instinct, very shocked.

Kurt pulls away from the hug and grins at Blaine. _You did it Blaine! You took down all three at once!_

Unable to believe it, Blaine looks over at the girls, who are walking closer. Rachel seems to have gone back to her hangnail problem while Quinn is glaring daggers at Blaine.

"Oh..." Blaine says, allowing his arms to rest around Kurt's waist, "I did?"

_Yes!_ Kurt says with a little soundless laugh, thumping Blaine on the chest playfully. Blaine laughs nervously.

He just can't believe it.

OoOoOoOoO

The four of them are sitting in the middle of the now restored alley. The darkness has faded back into simple shade and the Noise are gone, as are the timers. After exchanging names, they decided to sit and try and figure out this Game they're playing before they succumb to whatever weird hibernation they go into at the end of the day.

Kurt is sitting with his back to a wall, and Blaine is standing next to him, leaning casually against the same wall. Quinn and Rachel are sitting across from them. Kurt can't stop thinking about Blaine saving all their sorry asses; Quinn was especially upset because she apparently wants 'all the points she can get' or something. Kurt couldn't be more proud, though. The Lightning Bolt attack had been impressive, especially coming from someone as nonconfrontational as Blaine.

Rachel is flipping her Street Jam pin like a coin. "I really don't like this one, Quinn, can't I try a different one?"

"We don't have any others that you can use. Just shut up and deal with it," Quinn says. Kurt feels like this may be an old argument.

"But, Kurt has one that we don't have," Rachel whines, "And so does Blaine. Why can't we trade?"

Quinn throws her arms up in exasperation. Kurt can sympathize. "God, Rachel! If you hate it that much, maybe one of them will switch with you. Just shut up about it!"

Rachel looks over at Kurt and Blaine with big puppy eyes. Kurt knows that, though he'll deny it, Blaine is too polite to not give up the two pins he's nailed down if Rachel asks for them. Kurt really doesn't want him to have to get used to another new one, so he wordlessly offers his Apport pin up to Rachel. He doesn't really like Apport anyway; it's so not his style.

She takes it in her hand, frowns at it, and (Kurt wouldn't have believed it if he hadn't seen it) holds it up to her ear and gives it a little shake, as if trying to determine if there is faulty wiring or a loose piece or something. Considering that a pin has maybe three pieces to it, Kurt isn't really sure why she's doing this.

Eventually she nods and gives Kurt her Street Jam pin in exchange for his Apport pin. He just hopes he didn't make a bad deal by getting a pin that won't even work for him, but it warms up in his hand as soon as he looks down at it. He supposes he'll find out soon enough if it'll work for him. If not, well, he's got a couple other pins he hasn't tried yet.

"You two are lucky, you know," Quinn is saying smugly. "The fact that you haven't been erased yet boggles my mind."

Kurt scoffs. _What makes you so sure about that? _he says, but she isn't even looking at him. Instead she looks to Blaine, who is tugging on the hem of his shirt. Kurt is tempted to lean over and smack him on the leg to get him to stop, but he feels oddly nervous about it, like Blaine might not want Kurt touching him.

Blaine sighs and says, "It's hard enough to communicate like this, when it's calm, when Kurt hasn't got a voice, let alone when we're fighting Noise." He looks down at Kurt with an apology in his eyes. Kurt stares back for a moment, because he can't remember the last time someone looked at him like that after saying something not necessarily nice about him. But then he just shrugs.

"Well," Rachel chimes in, "why haven't you been using text messages?"

Kurt looks over at her, aghast. He thought he knew a lot about the Game, but Rachel apparently knows more and it is so agitating. Rachel starts twirling a lock of hair around her finger and stares coquettishly at Blaine, who has his phone out and is frowning at it. Kurt feels his heart plummet; of course Rachel would flirt with Blaine, of course Rachel always gets what she wants. Blaine being straight or not makes no difference. Kurt refuses to pass judgment until he has irrefutable proof. Right now, though, it's looking like Blaine is definitely closer to at least bisexual, or he's straight and just likes touching other guys in a manner decidedly more than friendly. Kurt would probably pass out if he saw Finn put his arm around another guy's waist.

His musings are interrupted by his phone vibrating. He is immediately on edge because he thought the mission was done for today, but he notices that the other three just keep talking about fighting Noise. Kurt opens the new message on his phone.

_[Wish I had thought of this. Oh well! Now you don't have to repeat everything and we won't fight all the time! :)]_

_[-Blaine]_

Blaine looks over at Kurt and they catch each other's eyes. Kurt smiles, trying to show with one expression how much he appreciates Blaine even trying to open up communication between them.

Blaine smiles back and, after typing out something else, keeps holding onto his phone instead of putting it away, in case Kurt needs to say something. Kurt appreciates the gesture.

His phone buzzes again as Blaine recounts the thrilling tale of how he died. Kurt looks down at the screen.

_[Another day down. Five to go. We can do this!]_

_[-Blaine]_

Kurt grins stupidly, sure Blaine isn't watching. That one text message fills Kurt up with so much hope he's surprised he doesn't start to float away.

Upon looking up, though, wanting to listen to the others' conversation, he notices Rachel looking at him with a knowing grin. He doesn't let it bother him, though. Instead he tugs on Blaine's slacks, indicating for him to sit down. Once he does, Kurt scoots closer under the pretense of allowing Blaine to see the screen of his phone, where Kurt types out what he wants to say. This way he can join in the conversation via Blaine.

He doesn't even really listen to the conversation, though. All he does is marvel at how close he is to Blaine, how warm he is. And Blaine doesn't shy away; on the contrary, Blaine adjusts the way he's sitting so Kurt can get closer.

Maybe there's hope, Kurt thinks. Maybe he can get what he wants instead of Rachel Berry getting what she wants.

For the first time in a long time, he feels hopeful. He feels happy. Even in this strange version of the afterlife, he can now look forward to tomorrow, even if it's partly grim determination to win.

OoOoOoOoO

end of chapter three. PREPARE FOR STUPID, ANNOYING, LONG AN. SORRY IN ADVANCE. :(

First of all, I feel obligated to clarify.

Blaine and other characters' dialog is your normal "dialog" deal. Kurt speaks in italics because he's really only mouthing the words; no sound comes out. Italics in brackets _[kind of like this] _are text messages between Kurt and Blaine. All-CAPS messages in italics _LIKE THIS RIGHT HERE _are from the Reapers.

Also, for your convenience, here is a list of everyone's Psychs so far.

Kurt: Psychokinesis (allows him to move shit WITH HIS MIND) and Apport (makes a little meteorite hit the target)

Blaine: Lightning Bolt (self-explanitory) and Pyrokenesis (makes fire) Pyrokenesis was always my favorite Psych in the game. :D

Quinn: Shockwave (makes a sort-of sword, one of those super-basic pins in the game)

Rachel: Street Jam (in the game you had to yell into the built-in mic on the DS to make this one work. Was very cathartic to scream at my DS and watch critters die :D It's an attack that is pure sound and was totally my second fav.)

Also also, Quinn is in Lucy form for this fic. :D That's what the bitch gets for trying to be punk rock. Quinn is about as punk rock as the Pope Himself.

Okay second of all, UUUGH.

This chapter's last half was such a little bitch. I should mention that I freaking hate Rachel. Once I got to the part where I had to bring her in, it was just dragging. Oh my God. I was on the backstage crew in drama club when I was in high school and there was always a Rachel amongst the actors. Writing her is like... it's like... it SUCKS okay?

Please do let me know how the action scenes turned out. And if the basic rules make more sense now. Also I'm worried that the narrative isn't up to snuff; if the descriptive stuff or introspection or anything is boring, or doesn't sound right, or just plain sucks, please God tell me. I'm a freaking masochist when it comes to reviews. I promise I won't get mad.


	4. Gimmie Sympathy

YOU HAVE SEVEN DAYS

Moving right along, ladies and gents...

THANK YOU for the hits. I love when people hit my shit. WOW I AM SO FUNNY.

Trying for more dialog in this chapter. I feel like chapter three was severely lacking in it. Also lots of drama. Hope you like Blaingst. I know I do :D

If this chapter sucks it is because I am severely allergic to the number four. No, really.

(special thanks to **Klainebows and Quirrelmort **for fangirling with me and being generally awesome, and to **Freya the Duck **and **ramaya**, who wrote me possibly_ the nicest reviews ever_. I was totally gonna drop this fic for a while because I thought no one was reading it, maybe work on something else, but you two dragged me back with those reviews, so this one's for you guys.)

btw, for you TWEWY fans, see if you can spot the reference to the game in this chapter. It's pretty small... Hint: It's one of Mr. Hanekoma's favorite things to say, and it's one of the messages in CAT's graffiti.

OoOoOoOoO

CHAPTER FOUR. Gimmie Sympathy.

Get hot

Get too close to the flame

Wild open space

Talk like an open book

Sign me up

Got no time to take a picture

I'll remember someday

All the chances we took

We're so close

To something better left unknown

I can feel it in my bones

OoOoOoOoO

Kurt is awakened, once again, by the noise of US Highway 40. It is so reminiscent of the first day that he immediately feels panicked, thinking in his post-fake-sleep state that he's starting over and will have to go through everything all over again; finding a partner, fighting those Noise, dealing with Blaine...

Thinking of Blaine instantly calms him. This is very new for Kurt, as before he felt nervous when thinking about Blaine. But his partner has gotten better at Psychs, seeming to finally grasp the concept of attacking with his Imagination instead of cowering in a corner. Kurt doesn't even really get the concept himself, he just _knows_. He suspects that, during the preGame breakdown in the presence of that unseeable woman, she crammed a bunch of Game-related information in his head. He certainly remembers his head hurting like it does after a long study session.

Kurt sits up lazily and stretches. He doesn't feel particularly rested, but he's not tired. He just assumes that whatever they are doing between days isn't really sleep. Considering that they are dead and their bodies don't actually need sleep, he assumes they do this just so there is something dividing the days, and so that they can wake up some place other than where they last remember being. It's like being a narcoleptic sleepwalker.

The sun is hidden behind ominous-looking dark gray clouds today, and there is a heavy breeze smelling of rain, promising a storm later. Kurt sincerely hopes it does not rain because it would absolutely ruin his hair. Not that he's shallow or anything.

He looks around, spotting Blaine easily. He's laying on his stomach as if dropped there, limbs all out. His face his peaceful and Kurt would like to just take this opportunity to stare openly at him, but not only would that make him a total creeper, but they got stuff to do. He walks over to Blaine, noticing that Quinn and Rachel aren't far off; the two are laying right next to each other, turned toward each other. He wonders why he and Blaine can't end up like that.

Kurt nudges Blaine carefully with the toe of his shoe and Blaine starts to stir. He snorts awake, jerking his head up and looking around, and it is very adorable. Kurt smiles fondly as Blaine looks up, all bleary-eyed, and finds Kurt. As soon as they make eye contact the mild confusion melts off Blaine's face and he sits up. Kurt sits next to him.

"Morning," Blaine says thickly as he stretches his arms over his head. His dress shirt rides up and Kurt tries very hard not to appreciate the view.

_Sleep well?_ Kurt asks, and Blaine nods as he carefully rolls up the sleeves of his shirt to his elbows.

"I guess so. Since you're not freaking out yet I assume the mission isn't here yet?"

_Not yet,_ Kurt replies with a shrug. _Don't know how long, though._

Blaine sighs and leans back on his elbows, looking up at the sky. "Ooh... I hope it storms... I love a good storm."

Kurt is much too busy staring wide-eyed at Blaine's freaking arms and his freaking chest and _slightly spread legs_ to object to any hope for a storm. He feels his heart ramming viciously against his ribcage and has to fight the desperate need to lean over and fill that space, to get close to Blaine, make their noses brush against each other before giving him a slow, sweet kiss.

The images in his head develop as he and Blaine sit in companionable silence, Blaine with his head back and throat exposed to stare at the rolling clouds. Kurt imagines what is underneath that dress shirt, which was at one point perfectly pressed but is now a little torn up and very wrinkled and his breath catches. He wonders what it would be like, kissing Blaine; what his lips would feel like. He clenches his fists in the grass. They look like they might be soft and easy to kiss, like they were made for kissing. Blaine would probably like nice, slow, love-drunk kisses. Kurt really likes the sound of that. He might be getting a bit dizzy.

He realizes he's letting his imagination run away from him and quickly reigns it in. He already decided that he would not do this to Blaine, and definitely not to himself. Especially not when Kurt has yet to find out what Blaine's sexuality is. He's had too many crushes turn into him embarrassing himself. He tries to focus, tries to tear his unwilling eyes away from him. All the while Blaine is oblivious, humming to himself. Kurt decides to check the time, to see if there's any new messages. He starts to wonder when they'll get the mission, and it occurs to him that they got their second later in the day than the first, so he knows they don't come at the same time. It seems to Kurt that they usually have some time to regroup each day before the mission arrives, and he's grateful. Not only does he get to indulge a bit and stare at Blaine right now, but they get a moment of quiet before rushing headlong into another deathtrap.

Thinking of yesterday's mission, Kurt works his shoulders around to discover that the pain and tightness from the deep scratches on his back is entirely gone. He frowns curiously and tries to reach the spot, feeling under Blaine's blazer. What remains of his own shirt is still wrapped around him as makeshift bandages, but he carefully unties them and finds the Noise-inflicted wounds are completely gone. They didn't even leave a scar, at least not one he can feel.

"What're you doing?" Blaine asks, catching the movement of Kurt trying to reach the middle of his back with his hand. "You shouldn't scratch at it, you know."

_I'm not!_ Kurt protests as he finally tugs the bandages off his torso and tosses them aside. Even the bloodstains are gone and Kurt is starting to feel weirded out.

Blaine raises an eyebrow. "That can't be healed yet," he says. Kurt scoffs lightly and takes the blazer off, then twists so Blaine can see his back.

At first Kurt doesn't hear Blaine say anything; he worries for a moment that something is wrong that he couldn't feel with his fingers. Then, just as Kurt is about to turn back around, Blaine clears his throat and says, "Well. I'll be damned."

Kurt turns back around then to grin at Blaine, who is smiling in an odd way. Kurt doesn't dwell on it, sure that if something was wrong, Blaine would tell him.

OoOoOoOoO

'oh my God, oh my God, _ohmyGOD_.'

These are Blaine's thoughts as Kurt twists to show him his perfectly healed back. Blaine isn't freaking out because of the wound vanishing overnight (one really has to get used to weird things like that happening in this situation), but because he can see the lean muscles working in Kurt's shoulders and lower back and neck as he turns at the waist, and it's driving him absolutely crazy. He has to bite down on his bottom lip, and he has to focus, maybe think of his elderly neighbor Mrs. Crabapple going out for the paper in her creepy sheer nightie that one time, because if he doesn't get this under control things are gonna get uncomfortable real quick.

He takes in a deep breath and blows it out and tries to convince himself that this is not turning him on in about two hundred different ways. Might be an exaggeration. He doesn't care. Holy shit Kurt is hot. Kurt is _hot_. He sees Kurt twitch his head, like he's going to turn around, and Blaine remembers he's supposed to be looking for any sign of injury. He clears his throat, not sure if his voice is going to work properly.

"Well. I'll be damned," he chokes out. Kurt turns and Blaine fixes a quick smile on his face, praying to God that he isn't blushing or... Or that he hasn't... that he isn't ... you know. Anything else embarrassing. Blaine clears his throat again and decides to check the time so he doesn't have to be tempted to stare at Kurt's bare chest.

OoOoOoOoO

"What is taking this mission so long? It's nearly noon. Did we wake up early?"

Kurt, Blaine, Quinn and Rachel are sitting in a circle in a grassy patch next to 40 and Pensy Pike, a swerving road that runs right into town. They had decided it would be best to hang close to this road so that if they had to get into town quick, they would have a direct route nearby.

Kurt isn't listening to Quinn gripe; instead, he is having an interesting text conversation with Blaine while the four of them wait for the mission. First they discussed favorite musicians (Lady Gaga and The Beatles for Kurt, some pop and 70's rock for Blaine), then got into musicals (Kurt praising _Gypsy_ and the revival of _How To Succeed in Business Without Really Trying_ and Blaine going on about some college production he saw in Chicago). They moved on to what they liked to do when they were alive (fashion and singing for Kurt, reading and performing for Blaine). Now they have somehow gotten onto the topic of Project Runway.

_[if i had to pick a favorite... can't i pick both? ! it's too hard! i love them both equally! :P]_

_[-Blaine]_

Kurt snorts to himself and looks up; Blaine is sitting across from him with his phone out, looking sheepish. He shrugs, grinning apologetically.

"Are you even listening, Shorty?" Quinn asks testily. Blaine looks over at her and smiles charmingly. Kurt can see a little of pre-Game Blaine in that smile, the Blaine that was whole, had his confidence. The Blaine that smiled at him when he was sobbing hysterically.

"Of course. The mission will get here when it gets here. There's nothing we can do about it, there's no way we wouldn't get it. I say we enjoy the moment, you know, being able to just sit and hang out like this."

Kurt watches as Quinn frowns and looks back at her own phone, then goes back to his response to Blaine's text.

_[yes you have to pick one. if you want i can pick one and you can pick the other, that way we'll match. ;)]_

_[-Kurt]_

He hesitates before sending it. He doesn't know if he should be flirting. Though Blaine has been more than friendly, Kurt still can't be sure which way he swings. And there's the fact that Kurt's experience with flirting is pretty limited; he only ever flirted with Finn and that is a part of his life he prefers not to think about. He doesn't know if he's doing it right, or if there even is a right way to flirt. He doesn't even know if the text will come off as flirty to Blaine or just friendly.

Throwing caution to the wind, Kurt hits send with a sense of finality and looks back up to follow the conversation, and also to surreptitiously watch for Blaine's reaction to the subtle flirting.

Quinn huffs loudly. "I just hope you two boys aren't expecting us to be all friendly once the mission gets here." she says as Blaine gets Kurt's reply. "Rachel and I are going to win this thing, we're going to get as many points as we possibly can."

Blaine is distracted from replying by this statement; he looks up with the cutest confused expression. "You keep talking about points. What's that all about?"

"You don't know?" Quinn says with a derisive laugh.

Even Rachel smirks a bit. "The Players who finish the mission get the points," she says.

"I thought we all had to finish, though," Blaine says, completely ignoring his phone in favor of this new information. Kurt, rather than panic about something else he needs to worry about in regards to the Game, worries about Blaine sending a reply. Right now he could care less about Quinn using scare tactics.

"No," Quinn says, and Kurt is a bit shocked at that news. "Two Players who are partners finish a mission. Once a pair have cleared the mission, it's cleared for everyone, but only the two who actually finished it get the points. The amount of points you have determines who wins at the end of the week."

Kurt and Blaine catch each other's eyes simultaneously. Blaine looks panic-stricken, and Kurt, for once, feels about the same. It would really suck to get all the way to the end of the week and find out they'd still lost.

"I wouldn't worry about it too much, though," Rachel says to Blaine, batting her eyes lazily, "I mean, there's more than just one person for first place. No one knows how many people actually get their life back, but it could be more than one. You never know."

Blaine looks a little comforted by this fact and Kurt feels jealousy rearing up inside him. Suddenly he's glad he sent a slightly flirty text, even if Blaine is currently too preoccupied to look into the context of it.

"Whatever," Quinn says darkly, "I'm not taking any chances. We can be best friends now, but once the mission gets here it's back to business."

There is a heavy silence. Kurt realizes, and he thinks Blaine has realized it too, that the other Players are their competition. Kurt may be competitive like anyone else, but he knows he won't resort to any dirty tricks to get the mission finished. As far as he knows, anyway, he and Blaine definitely finished both missions they've been issued so far. He thinks there might be some other way to earn points that Quinn isn't mentioning, because first of all, she seems way too cocky, and second if she did it would be really stupid. Now she knows that Kurt and Blaine didn't even know about points until she mentioned it and it puts her at an advantage if there is another way. It would be better for her to keep other methods to herself, maybe not even telling Rachel, so that the opportunity to take advantage of that method would be hers alone. Of course, Kurt doesn't know what the other Players know or don't know, but he suspects that whatever information they were force-fed before the Game started was either unique to each Player or they each have forgotten some of the details. He figures he has a much better understanding of Psychs than Quinn or Rachel. He isn't sure what Blaine might know that he or the girls don't.

Kurt is brought out of his thoughts by his phone vibrating.

_[i can hear you thinking from all the way over here. ;) btw, if i absolutely have to pick one, i pick Heidi Klum because her accent is awesome. you can be Tim Gunn because i think you can appreciate his style and fashion smarts. :)]_

_[-Blaine]_

Suddenly all the depressing thoughts and the worry fly out of Kurt's head like they've been caught by a stray breeze. He doesn't know how Blaine can just obliterate the darkness creeping into his heart, how someone can calm that nervous flutter without even meaning to. It's worrisome, and he wants to tell himself to stop, but he just can't. Blaine is offering him something he's never had, and that's someone to stand next to him in the face of something terrible.

Kurt feels like, even if he has to keep these feelings for Blaine deep inside just to survive, and even if they do survive and never see each other again, he can have this one week where someone was on his side and willing to be there for him.

_[just thinking about what Quinn said... aren't you worried about it? and, good choice. you can totally be the Heidi to my Tim. :)]_

_[-Kurt]_

He sighs as he sends the text. He supposes he'll let himself flirt a little, and if Blaine is so oblivious that he thinks Kurt is only being friendly, so be it.

OoOoOoOoO

_[just thinking about what Quinn said... aren't you worried about it? and, good choice. you can totally be the Heidi to my Tim. :)]_

_[-Kurt]_

This text has Blaine at a stand-still. It's not that he doesn't know what to say... Or maybe it is. He thinks Kurt may be flirting with him but he doesn't want to get his hopes up. Blaine can barely remember the last time someone flirted with him. He does remember that, last time, it had been a girl and he'd had to be a jerk and tell her he 'wasn't her type' or something stupid like that. His fingers hover over the keyboard, his mind stalls. What should he say? He doesn't want to overstep and flirt back if Kurt isn't flirting to begin with, but if Kurt _is_ flirting, he certainly doesn't want to inadvertently shoot him down with something too platonic.

He feels obligated to keep one ear on the conversation, and it's getting a little distracting. "I think the Psychs you can use are based on your personality, you know. Rachel can use that screechy pin because she's annoying," Quinn says.

"Hey," Rachel says, hurt in her voice, "I can use Street Jam because I like to sing. The sound it makes has nothing to do with it. I bet once Kurt uses it it'll sound the same."

"But Kurt doesn't even have a voice. Pretty bum deal if you ask me," Quinn says, apparently to Kurt. Blaine looks up briefly to see Kurt giving Quinn a rather impressive glare. He looks back down, though, before Kurt catches him staring.

Blaine runs his fingers along the edge of his phone, trying to think of a suitable reply. He didn't know text conversations could be so difficult.

"Well, whatever. I have to admit, I was impressed with this one yesterday," Quinn says, nudging Blaine's knee with the tips of her fingers. Blaine looks up again to see her giving him a rather strange look. Something like she's sizing him up, trying to figure out if he's worthy of the compliment. "Amazing, something that powerful in such a small package."

Blaine laughs nervously. "Ah, um... yeah, well, I just kind of reacted. I take boxing so it was like, instinct to hit that big Snake."

Quinn, Rachel, and Kurt look over at him, impressed. Blaine feels himself blushing, but he isn't sure why at first. He looks back down at his phone, back at the last message Kurt sent him, and he blushes harder. He doesn't know what's wrong with him, he isn't thrown off balance like this whenever he goes into detail about himself to someone he's just met. He was just fine earlier when they were chatting, because it's just like sitting around with your friends, talking about whatever. No pressure, or deep, philosophical conversations, or anything like that. But now that the focus is on him he feels flustered and thrown off balance.

Quinn and Rachel go back to talking, making guesses about what the mission might be. Blaine knows Kurt is waiting for an answer to his text. He knows it would be rude to not say anything back. But he feels so strange right now, he's never felt like this. Maybe he's felt something like this deep down, but it was always under layers and layers of hard-earned self-esteem and confidence.

At this thought, Blaine snaps his head up in realization. Just like yesterday when he saw the place where he died, he already knew this before this moment of clarity. But it's only just now sinking in, it's only just now _actually_ occurring to him. What he's lost, what part of him is missing, leaving a gaping hole in his sense of self. And it explains why he feels so different, why he feels like he's constantly one sudden loud noise away from a panic attack, why he suddenly falls apart under pressure when before he would never allow himself to appear weak.

He's lost his confidence, he's lost his high opinion of himself. And it was something that he fought tooth and nail for. He used to be that kid at school; the one the tough guys would throw food at in the lunch room and flick their cigarettes at when he walked by, the one the jocks would taunt and tease relentlessly. He used to be the one who had to look around corners for anyone who would see him as an easy target, which had been nearly everyone. He used to be that quiet kid in the back of the classroom, the one that knew the answers but never raised his hand either for fear of being wrong or being terrified of drawing attention to himself.

And then that damn Sadie Hawkins dance, a moment of failure and humiliation, and then his parents freaked out and shipped him off to Dalton. And in that safe environment he was able to get used to himself, find out who he is, and be comfortable in who he is.

And now, after having finally found that place where he could be happy, after finding his footing and preparing to leave his awful memories behind, he finds the floor swept out from underneath him right before he could take off and leave the past on the ground while he reached for the sky. Now he feels like he's falling, and he's trying to grab on to something, anything, to keep him from hitting the bottom of this deep dark pit in his mind.

His phone vibrates and lets out a tone. He suspects it's another message from Kurt, wondering why he's taking so long to respond. He doesn't think, he just opens the message, because now he feels bad for making Kurt wait.

He doesn't even get the chance to fully read the message, actually take in what he's reading, before a now-familiar sharp pain stabs his hand, and he cries out and drops his phone in his lap.

"Finally," Quinn says, her voice tight with pain. "Took 'em long enough, didn't it?"

Wait, wait, did Blaine just open the mission? He wasn't ready, though, he totally isn't ready for this-

"Big bad wolf... Just like Little Red Riding Hood," Rachel says. If the pain bothers her, Blaine can't tell. He keeps his head down and can't hear any difference in her deadpan voice.

"Yeah, whatever. Okay, boys, it was nice having this little discussion, even if one of you couldn't join in and the other blatantly ignored us. Time to get to work. Come on, Rachel!"

Blaine is trying to remember how to breathe. His eyes are wide and his heart is ramming against his chest so hard it actually hurts. He can hear his pulse racing in his ears. He feels sick. He stays hunched over, watching the seconds tick down on his hand as Quinn and Rachel stand up. Someone puts a hand on his shoulder.

'No, no, no,' he thinks, starting to shake. 'No, I wasn't ready.' He can hear Quinn and Rachel exchanging ideas as they walk away, trying to figure out where they need to go.

Someone is shaking him but he's already shaking so he doesn't notice. He can't breathe. He clutches the fabric of his shirt at the collar, tugging it away from his neck. He tries to find the knot of his tie to loosen it but his fingers won't cooperate. He can't breathe, he hears blood rushing in his ears, his vision is going fuzzy.

The hands on his shoulders are gone, only to move to where he's struggling with his tie. Whoever it is tugs his trembling hands away and starts loosening the tie for him. Once the tie is completely untied and tossed aside, Blaine is pulled into the sort of embrace he's only felt once.

He closes his eyes and instead of the heavy, pre-storm air, he smells Old Spice after shave and the distinctive smell of a hospital. He doesn't feel the grass he's sitting on, he feels starched sheets and pain in his shoulder and sides and his face. He doesn't feel the thick breeze carrying storm clouds in, he feels sterile air and a manufactured breeze caused by air conditioning. He feels tired and ashamed. He hears distant beeping, lots of talking, but he's stuck in this misery, in this world of terror and god-awful pain.

"I'm so sorry," he says brokenly.

_"Hush, son."_ The voice is familiar, as if from a long time ago. It's deep and reminds him instantly of authority, a voice he should always listen to. But right now that voice is shaking nearly as bad as Blaine himself. A hand comes up to cup the back of his head, fingers gripping carefully at his hair. It reminds Blaine that he had worked so hard, styling his hair perfectly for the dance and now it's ruined from all the times he hit the ground. He had spent most of the afternoon putting together the perfect outfit and now it's torn and bloodstained and covered in dirt and grass stains. He tried so hard to be strong in the face of adversity, just like this man holding him told him to, but he failed and took someone else down with him in his failure. And all he can think about right now is how much it hurts, and how he feels like such a worthless piece of shit. The man he's hanging on to, the man who has never showed this much emotion when it came to him, he's all that anchors Blaine, he's all that keeps Blaine from drifting away.

"Please don't hate me," Blaine whines through his tears, and it's one of his greatest fears, that this man will one day admit that he hates him. Blaine spent most of his youth looking up to him, longing for the day when he gets to read the Sunday paper with a thoughtful frown while sipping coffee, instead of trying to frown at one of his coloring books while stirring his cereal around. Now he's older, and he knows how this man feels about his sexuality, he knows how it puts a stain on their impeccable image, he knows how it's caused a rift between them, but...

_"I could never hate you. You're my little boy. I could _never_ hate you."_

Blaine squeezes his eyes shut tight and tears are still leaking through. He gasps and hiccups, his chest spasms and he tries to stop crying, and his father's strong arms wrap all the tighter around him. It causes him no pain, only provides him with the protection he's been looking for since all this started.

He can't hold on to anything but the shirt he's crying into, which feels different than the crisp shirt his father had been wearing when he came tearing into Blaine's hospital room, but Blaine doesn't care. He knows he should feel horribly embarrassed, because this is real, ugly crying; tears and snot, wailing and incoherent. But he can't stop.

_"Hush, son."_

_Hush, Blaine._

_"It'll be all right."_

_It's going to be all right._

_"Don't cry, now, son."_

_Please don't cry anymore._

The clashing of voices, one his father's and one he's never heard. Blaine wonders who it could be; maybe an angel. With that thought, Blaine loses his grip and promptly passes out.

OoOoOoOoO

Kurt is freaking out.

Blaine is leaning against him, dead weight, completely unconscious. He'd been having a pretty bad panic attack, gasping for air, tearing at his throat like something was choking him. And once Kurt had hugged him, Blaine had completely fallen apart and had started sobbing, muttering things that made no sense. Telling Kurt he was sorry, asking Kurt not to hate him. But Kurt has a feeling that Blaine had been talking to someone who wasn't actually there.

He carefully leans Blaine back in his arms and lays him down in the grass. His face is pale and shining with tears, blotchy from excessive crying. His lips are parted slightly.

Kurt doesn't know what to do. Their mission arrived, the seconds are ticking away, and they have to get moving. After making sure Blaine will be all right for the moment, Kurt picks his phone up to look at the mission.

_FIND AND DESTROY THE BIG BAD WOLF. YOU HAVE 250 MINUTES._

Kurt wonders why the time is so weird; the past two days it's been an even amount. He guesses that whoever runs this stupid Game is trying to trip them up, or at least trying to keep it interesting. Perhaps they just pull a random number of minutes out of their ass. That sounds about right.

Blaine lets out a low moan and begins to stir, so Kurt moves into his line of sight, hovering just over him. Blaine's eyes flutter open and he stares up at Kurt blankly for a moment, looking thoroughly dazed, and then he sits up slowly. Kurt moves out of his way, sits beside him, and puts an arm around him in case he isn't quite steady yet.

"Ooh..." Blaine groans, rubbing his face. He frowns, bringing his hands back to stare at the tears he just smeared all over his face. Then he looks over at Kurt, realization in his amber eyes. "Umm..."

Kurt holds up a hand and Blaine falls silent. Kurt then starts typing out a text message, trying to type quickly without messing up.

_[don't say you're sorry. you've got nothing to be sorry for. honestly i think you were building that up inside and it finally came bursting out... that was a pretty big panic attack, you ok?]_

_[-Kurt]_

Blaine reads the message and looks back up at Kurt with tears in his eyes. "I don't know. I don't think so... I don't think I can do this anymore." His voice breaks and he is starting to cry openly again.

Kurt, saddened by the new tears, pulls him into a hug again. Blaine falls against him, throwing his arms over Kurt's shoulders and hugging him back. He seems to be holding on to Kurt like he's a bit of driftwood and Blaine is stranded in the middle of the ocean. Kurt tries not to acknowledge what he's feeling right now, hugging a boy he might have feelings for. Definitely has feelings for, who is he kidding. Holding Blaine right now is amazing, because they're hugging each other tight. But it's heartbreaking because Blaine is crying and scared and Kurt doesn't know what to do to make it better. Blaine is so sweet, such a gentle person, if a bit naive, and Kurt feels fiercely protective of him at the moment. Knowing he's in an emotional tailspin puts a sick feeling at the pit of Kurt's stomach.

Blaine makes a strange noise, like a whine or a whimper, and says, "God, I'm s-sorry. I don't what's wrong with me."

Kurt rubs Blaine's back, and tries to make a shushing sound. He is surprised when it works, if barely. "Shh, shh..."

"Oh my God I suck," Blaine chokes against Kurt's shoulder. "We need to go... we have a mission..."

Kurt carefully leans away from Blaine so they can make eye contact. _No,_ he says firmly. _First we need to make sure you're okay._

"I'm so sorry," Blaine says again, and he sounds just as broken down and miserable as he did when he said it before. It's tearing at Kurt's heart to see him this way. Blaine sniffles loudly as he makes a valiant attempt to wipe away the tears and keep his shoulders from shaking. But it has the opposite effect as his face crumples again and he hides behind his hands and cries with abandon.

Kurt just takes him in his arms again. He feels nervous because they are just sitting here while there's a mission to finish, but really, what's he supposed to do? Only a heartless bastard would force Blaine to run headlong into a mission while he's such a mess. It wouldn't do them any good, anyway, because Blaine has such a hard time against the Noise at the best of times and Kurt would be to busy worrying about him.

Blaine rests his head against Kurt's shoulder and his arms find their way around Kurt's waist, which seems to be a habit of his. His tears are slowly subsiding to sniffles and jittery deep breathing. It's taking every ounce of control for Kurt to not take this moment and try and make it something else, either in his head by fantasizing or physically. He keeps his arms around Blaine in the most platonic way he can think of, around his torso and his hands flat against his back.

They sit like that for almost a full minute before Blaine pulls away, taking a deep, shuddering breath. Kurt keeps his hands on Blaine's upper arms just to keep contact with him, so that Blaine knows he's still here for him. "S-sorry," Blaine says quietly. "I know you told me not to apologize b-but... I don't know. I'm not... like this," and he gestures to himself.

Kurt smiles sadly. _It's okay,_ he says. _You're only human._

OoOoOoOoO

Blaine doesn't think he's ever been so humiliated. He thought it had been bad before, when he'd spaced out over the place where he died. That was nothing compared to this. He almost wishes a Noise would just jump out of nowhere and take him out right now because he feels like he's just dragging Kurt down.

Wonderful, genuine, unbelievably kind Kurt. Patient, beautiful, perfect Kurt.

He sighs.

Kurt is walking at a brisk pace just ahead of him. They don't know what happened to their bike; it was nowhere to be found and they really didn't have the time to look for it. They don't even know where to go to find this Big Bad Wolf, but Kurt seems to know where he's going. They're walking along Pensy Pike, heading toward the woods it cuts through before getting into town.

He doesn't want to think about what lies ahead so he can only dwell on his huge episode back by the highway. Now that he knows what he lost, it's easy to figure why he doesn't feel like himself anymore. He had always kept up the appearance of being sure of himself, and now that it's gone he's stumbling and struggling.

Well, not anymore. Blaine squares his shoulders and clings desperately to the determination to move on from what happened. As embarrassed as he is for falling apart in front of Kurt like that, he picks up the pace and falls into step next to his partner.

Kurt looks over and smiles at him and Blaine feels an eruption of butterflies in his stomach. He hesitates, but smiles back. Kurt takes out his phone and starts typing; once he's done, he sends it to Blaine, whose phone promptly buzzes. He pulls it out and opens the new message, ignoring how it makes him feel sick to click 'open' even though he knows it's from Kurt.

_[hope you're okay.]_

_[-Kurt]_

Blaine shrugs a little. "Ah... I'm okay, I guess. Just humiliated, you know..." He laughs a little, trying to make it sound like it's not a big deal.

_[you are not okay. also no reason for you to be humiliated. if i told you the # of times i've cried in front of other people...! like i said earlier, i think it was bound to happen eventually and i'm just glad it happened when we were in a relatively safe place, not in the middle of fighting Noise.]_

_[-Kurt]_

"Yeah, I'm enough of a failure when we're fighting Noise, right?" Blaine jokes again, but he's halfway through his self-depreciating statement when Kurt swats at him with a disapproving glare. This is quickly followed by Kurt going back to his phone, still frowning.

_[don't put yourself down like that! i didn't mean it like that. you were awesome yesterday. you just have to learn how to deal with the panic.]_

Blaine reads this over Kurt's shoulder and responds before he can send it. "Yesterday was just dumb luck if you ask me. I told you earlier, I took boxing so when something comes at me it's instinct to punch it."

_[then start relying more on your instinct and less on your confidence! it's not going to do you any good now, not when it's gone. if reacting on instinct gets us what happened yesterday, then i say react on instinct.]_

It's a scary thought, because Blaine feels that his instinct is unstable at best, but he doesn't say this to Kurt. He knows how easy it is to get sick of someone who is constantly putting themselves down. "I guess... If you're willing to cover for me, then I might as well give it a shot."

_[of course i'll cover you]_ Kurt types out, giving Blaine a well-meaning eyeroll, then adds, _[we're partners. and, more importantly, i'd like to think we're friends.]_

Blaine stares at Kurt's screen for a moment, losing track of what they're doing and nearly trips right over him. Kurt grabs him by the elbow with a silent chuckle and Blaine smiles as he finds his balance, feeling better already.

"Yeah, I'd like to think we're friends, too."

If he's honest with himself, he'd really like to think that they could be more than that. But as they walk side-by-side up Pensy Pike towards where it intersects with Swope Street, he decides that he doesn't want to risk it. And he could be wrong, he could be so wrong about how Kurt looks at him, how he flirts as best he can through text, how Kurt is so eager to be close to him. And just because he feels the stress and frustration lift off him when they touch, to be replaced with a pleasant tingling feeling all over, that doesn't mean Kurt feels the same. And he has no idea if this hesitance is because he would normally value a friendship over a romance or if it's just another unfortunate side-effect of losing his confidence.

Kurt suddenly grabs ahold of his upper arm and squeezes it, hard; Blaine jerks away but Kurt doesn't let go. Instead, Kurt is pointing ahead on the road, where Swope connects with Pensy Pike.

Just ahead of them is none other than Quinn and Rachel, who appear to be engaged in some kind of battle. But it isn't Noise they're fighting; instead, Blaine is shocked to see the two cheerleaders in red and white uniforms running circles around the girls.

"Oh, I saw them before the Game started!" Blaine says to Kurt, who is staring shocked at the fight. "Those two cheerleaders. I think they might be an item, you know." Blaine grins and nudges Kurt with his elbow. Kurt looks back at him, abashed.

_Blaine!_ he says, and Blaine doesn't know why Kurt looks so affronted. Kurt takes off at a rather brisk walk while texting, and Blaine follows after.

His phone vibrates and he checks the screen; Once Kurt had finished his text message, he had taken off at a sprint to reach the girls faster. Blaine lets him get there first.

_[now isn't the time for lewd jokes. we're gonna help Q & R, they look like they need it! now's a good time to practice relying on instinct!]_

_[-Kurt]_

OoOoOoOoO

The fight he's approaching is vicious, as one would expect from four vicious females. It appears that all four of these girls are from McKinley, same as Kurt. Of course he knows Santana and Brittany, the two cheerleaders. The fierce Latina and the air-headed blonde who joined Glee club on the cheer coach's orders but stayed because they enjoyed it just as much as the losers did, even if they normally wouldn't be caught dead cavorting with those losers.

He feels torn as he crests the slight hill just before the intersection of Swope and Pensy Pike and the fight is within thirty or so feet. They were his friends, but only in the confines of the choir room. They were his bullies, but only while their peers were looking. They had been a part of the best thing in his life so far, they had been two of the voices in the Glee club's perfectly imperfect harmony. They had been just as cold when he crossed the border himself and joined the Cheerios, kept the same distance from him.

It occurs to him that he might want to warn Blaine. Santana was never shy about being violent when alive, and Kurt has no doubt that she would be just as malicious now.

_[that's Santana and Brittany. Santana is the Latina one and she's terrifying in the best of times, so watch out.]_

_[-Kurt]_

_[ok. you be careful, too.]_

_[-Blaine]_

Kurt slips his phone back into his pocket and continues forward toward the fight. He obviously can't shout ahead to let Quinn and Rachel know he's coming, and it's just as well. He supposes that gives him the element of surprise. He gets close enough, and Quinn sees him approaching. It would be hard to miss a boy running toward you in a torn and dirty school uniform blazer with nothing on underneath, after all.

Her eyes widen a bit but she doesn't let it linger. Instead she leaps forward, slashing at Brittany with her Shockwave pin. The beam of light arcs out of her closed fist and Brittany only just escapes the invisible blade.

Kurt arrives and stops to dig in his pockets for his own pins. Once they're in hand, he turns briefly to check on Blaine; he's coming right up behind him, already wearing that expression of concentration and clutching a pin, trying to get it to work.

While Kurt's distracted, something runs right into him; the impact knocks him over and his pins fall from his hand to scatter around him. Brittany is standing over him, looking around for a moment in surprise before catching sight of him on the ground.

"Kurt!" she cries happily. "Wow, I'm like, so glad to see you. Me and Santana are partners. She's so awesome. And she's a real good kisser too. Did you get a partner, too? Did you know I have super powers now? I totally do. It's so awesome. I'll show you, here, watch."

Kurt isn't really listening; he's looking around, panicked, for his only weapons. The pins had rolled and bounced into the gravel and he didn't see where any of them landed in the confusion of being knocked down. He doesn't even watch as Brittany turns and holds her hand up.

He looks up, though, when Blaine stops and stands next to him. "What happened, why're you on the ground? Oh!" he says, and Kurt first looks up at him, then follows his wide eyes to see Brittany firing a spray of little bullets of hot pink energy at Quinn and Rachel. The girls attempt to dodge the attack; Quinn is successful but Rachel stumbles and takes a few good hits. She shakes it off, seemingly not bothered, and the two continue to avoid the bullets Brittany fires at them.

"Oh man," Blaine says. He crouches down next to Kurt, who has resumed his desperate search. "What happened?"

_I dropped my pins!_

Blaine swears under his breath; he and Kurt both start looking for the precious pieces of tin and plastic.

As their hands skim frantically over the gravel and dirt, though, something whips by them, stirring the air. Kurt looks up in surprise to see that Santana has spotted them and is regarding them with her best bitch smirk.

"Found you, Lady Face!" she calls, and she shoots her arm out. A long, thick steel chain comes flying out from thin air in front of her, racing right towards Kurt.

Blaine cries out and moves to stand in front of Kurt; Kurt himself covers his head with his arms and squeezes his eyes shut.

There is a loud _thwack_ and Blaine grunts and jerks back a step. Kurt lifts his head to see that, _somehow_, Blaine has caught the chain in his left hand. The chain has wrapped itself around his hand and Kurt is thoroughly startled and rather worried when a few drops of blood drip from between Blaine's hand and the chain.

"Nice catch, there, Frodo," Santana says. She has the other end in her own hand, holding it like a whip ready to be cracked.

"I'm really getting tired of the short jokes," Blaine calls back. Kurt can hear the tremor in his voice, but Blaine plants his feet firmly on the ground, then puts his right hand down on the chain and jerks it hard to the side.

A bolt of electricity runs through the chain as it jumps from side to side, cracking loudly as it races toward Santana. She isn't fast enough in dropping it; the Lightning Bolt hits her and she screams in pain. She's blown back a few feet, only just managing to stay standing. Once she's dropped the chain, it lingers for a moment before dissolving like sand.

Kurt watches all this instead of looking for his dropped pins. Underneath the rush of adrenaline and the fright, he is filled with admiration for Blaine and how he's adapting without his confidence.

He starts looking again, and a beam of sunlight peaking through the thick clouds gleams off the back of one of his pins, which is lying just off to the side of where he fell. He snatches it up and flips it over in his hand.

The picture on the front of the pin shows a bright white megaphone superimposed over a deep red and black striped background. It's the Street Jam pin he got from Rachel yesterday, the one he highly doubts he'll be able to use without his voice.

It doesn't matter. He has to try. Blaine is trying so hard, Blaine is pushing through all his issues from losing such a big part of himself. If Kurt's partner can confront his short-comings so soon after hitting rock bottom, then Kurt can pick himself up off the ground and at least _try_.

Kurt then stands, deciding to enter the fray with his one pin instead of wasting time searching for the others he dropped. He runs off toward Rachel as Blaine goes to join Quinn. She may not like it, but desperate times call for desperate measures, and he knows the four of them will need to work together if they're going to survive.

OoOoOoOoO

It seems that Kurt was right; once Blaine starts to ignore what he's lost and starts to listen to his gut, fighting with Psychs isn't so horribly terrifying.

It's still a little scary, though.

Santana is ruthless in her anger; the hit she took did nothing but rile her up. She crosses her arms in front of her body and then brings them both down in a sweeping motion; two identical chains shoot out from her, aiming for Blaine.

He sees the first coming, and it hits the dirt and stays taut as though the other end is tethered to something, not just hovering in the air. He doesn't have time to wonder how it's possible, and in any case, he's starting to get used to these kinds of things.

The second chain catches him off-guard; it hits him on the shin and, instead of just hitting him, the chain quickly wraps around his legs and snaps against him. It hurts terribly and he topples over; the chain is thick and is constricting like it's alive, grinding harshly against his legs. He makes some sort of noise in his throat, a choking sound, a cry of pain, and since he's decided to react on instinct now he immediately reaches down and tries to tug the chain off.

Quinn runs by him and pounces on Santana like a jungle cat, letting out a bellow as she brings her Shockwave down. Santana dodges it, but as her concentration is divided both chains dissolve. Blaine staggers to his feet, trying to ignore the steady throb in his knees and shins from the attack. He looks down, and is surprised that there hasn't been any blood drawn yet, aside from when he caught the first chain a moment ago. That he can ignore for now.

Brittany comes to Santana's side, as Quinn is still attacking her, and lets loose a spray of bullets. They dart out of her hand and fly everywhere. Even though she isn't aiming at Blaine, he still has to dodge them.

There isn't any time to let his cowardice creep in. Blaine runs to Quinn's side, and she seems even angrier once she notices him.

"We can handle it!" she growls.

Blaine doesn't listen. Instead he switches his pins, and in record time he's got Pyrokinesis booted up. He directs it all over, bringing it up in a wall in front of him, and he's willing it to not hurt Quinn, Rachel, or Kurt.

He looks around then, wondering where Kurt has gotten to. He finds him easily enough, standing next to Rachel, who looks winded but relatively unhurt.

They catch each other's eyes and a silent agreement passes between them.

Blaine turns back to the fight. Santana and Brittany are simply trying to overpower and confuse him and Quinn; Brittany keeps firing her bullets and Santana lashes out with her chains. Quinn is expertly blocking the chains by hitting them with Shockwave and diverting their course, and Blaine tries to keep his fire going to throw off his enemies' aim.

Bullets still break through though, and they still take hits from them. One doesn't hurt much more than a sharp sting, like being hit with a thrown baseball. They don't even break the skin, but they keep coming. One after another, some hitting the same spots, and Blaine knows he's going to have bruises. He wants to step in front of Quinn, to be chivalrous, but suspects that she'll find it highly offensive. And besides, he really doesn't want to get in the way of her Psych.

There is a cry of frustration on the other side of Blaine's column of fire, and suddenly Santana comes leaping through it. The flames singe her hair and her cheerleading outfit but she just charges through anyway. The look in her eyes is pure, blazing rage and Blaine is finding the panic overtaking his instincts.

He steps back, eager to be out of her way, but Santana is wild with fury and attacks him without hesitation. She screams something at him in Spanish, and he's sure it isn't nice. But then there are chains flying _everywhere_, taking root in the ground around him, and he cries out in fear as they connect with his arms and legs and start wrapping around him and tightening. The ends anchor down and he's forced down onto his knees as he feels his skin being scraped all over, the chains seeming to act like sandpaper as they dig into him.

Once he's down, she stands over him and makes another sweeping motion. Another chain whips around his neck and chest and brings his head and shoulders right down to the ground, slamming him into the dirt, pulling him and squeezing around him. He gasps desperately, flexes his hands and arms against the binds and tries to work his way out but the metal only digs deeper. His only thought is to get ahold of the thick chain around his neck that's slowly strangling him. He chokes out a cry for help, nothing more than a pitiful whine.

He hears Santana laughing, and she sounds completely insane. He doesn't know her, so he doesn't know if she is or not. But right now, as he fights against the tightening chains and the sick feeling of blood running in thin rivulets down his skin, he would say she would have to be out of her mind to find this funny.

It's Quinn that comes to his rescue; she drops her guard against Brittany to help him. She manages to push Santana back with a few quick swipes, then hacks through the chains. They slip away and silver sand is pouring off Blaine, piling around him as he slumps down in a heap on the ground. He sputters and gasps and tries to wrap his mind around the horror of choking and being completely at the mercy of someone who is one second away from _actually killing him_.

"This is so cute!" Santana says. Blaine sits up shakily and finds her retreating a little, going to stand by Brittany. "Who would've thought that Quinn Fabray would give a shit about anyone but Quinn Fabray? Must be that she looks like a disgusting slob now!"

"Shut up!" Quinn barks, sounding a bit manic. She moves to stand in front of Blaine while he catches his breath.

"Oh I'm sorry," Santana says, her voice dripping with sarcasm, "did I hit a sore spot?" Her smile is pure venom, and Blaine can't hold in the shiver as it spreads on her face.

Quinn doesn't respond, she only puts away her Shockwave pin, switching it for a different one. She is turning it in her fingers, obviously tense and riled up by Santana's taunting. Blaine can just barely see the design as she turns it; he sees a picture of a man riding a horse, wearing armor and carrying a lance.

At this point, Kurt comes running up and stops next to him. He crouches down and carefully grabs Blaine by the shoulder. Blaine looks over at him, trying to hide the terror from him, trying not show how scared he is. He doesn't want Kurt to think he's still a damn coward.

_Are you all right?_ Kurt asks, full of worry. Blaine can only nod as he rubs his neck.

"You're not the queen bee anymore," Santana is saying to Quinn. "You can glare at me all you want, but just looking at you right now is making me nauseous, so..." She raises her hand again.

Blaine flinches and curls in on himself as chains start flying around him. Kurt throws his arms around him, shielding him. His breath catches at the sentiment. He looks up, and Quinn is darting around, dodging them effortlessly. She seems to be moving quicker than before, and Blaine can see her new pin shining faintly, a halo of light around her closed fist.

She is upon Santana so fast that the latter has little time to react, and by that time, Quinn lands a hard punch to Santana's middle. A spear of light extends and runs right through Santana, who cries out and goes flying.

Blaine watches it happen, shocked, hoping that Quinn didn't just kill her, even if Santana nearly killed _him_ a few minutes ago. He stands with a little help from Kurt, and as he does so, Santana is struggling into a sitting position, an arm around her stomach, while Brittany flails on the spot.

Quinn backs away quickly as Brittany regroups and frowns at her. "That wasn't very nice!" she calls as Quinn comes to a stop next to Blaine and Kurt.

"You all right?" she asks him, an edge to her voice.

He grins at her concern, rubbing his sore neck again. "Yeah... I'll live. That was pretty impressive."

"Stop talking." she says, sounding annoyed. Then, raising her voice a bit, she says to Santana, "What the hell is wrong with you? Why'd you attack us?"

Santana is helped to her feet by Brittany. Once she's up, Brittany hugs her and Santana shows no reaction to it. Instead, she's glaring daggers at Quinn and Blaine. "We need the points. And we'll get them by taking out other Players."

OoOoOoOoO

Brittany is surprisingly good at attacking them. Kurt had always thought of her as a little dense but very gentle. She wouldn't hurt a fly, but from the slight smile on her face Kurt suspects she thinks they're only playing around.

Rachel is doing most of the attacking because all Kurt has on hand is Street Jam and he doesn't want to face the music - so to speak - and find out it doesn't work. He's perfectly fine with waiting here, dodging what he can, while Rachel brings meteorites raining down around Brittany.

A few of Brittany's Energy Rounds miss their target and come flying for him. It's second nature at this point for him to boot up the pin in his hand, so he does. The live wire feeling races up his arm and it's a lot more powerful than before. His skin tingles and itches from the energy. He hops backward out of the range of the bullets, rubbing his arm. It really itches.

Rachel takes the brunt of the attack and somehow is still standing. She shakes it off, flipping her dark hair out of her face. "Come on, Brittany, this isn't very nice. Why don't we stop fighting now?" Kurt thinks this is a clever move, playing against Brittany's child-like naivety in an attempt to get her to leave them alone.

Brittany stops her assault to cock her head to the side, looking thoughtful. "But my new friend Santana told me we were just playing a game. I thought we were just having fun." And she shrugs.

This throws Kurt off a bit, and apparently Rachel as well. Her 'new friend', as in only just met? He's pretty sure that those two have known each other long enough to be more than friends, considering how many times someone would walk into the choir room to find the two having a moment. As in, a moment between two girls who are definitely more than just friends.

Brittany sighs. "If you two aren't going to play, then I'm going to go play with Santana."

As Brittany trots away happily, Kurt remains standing by Rachel, who is slightly out of breath and frowning sadly at the welts formed from Brittany's Energy Rounds attack. He doesn't want to admit it, because this is Rachel, but he is a bit concerned about her. She seems all right, just winded. He stands by her, though, wanting to make sure she'll be okay and to protect her if Santana comes after them.

Funny what the afterlife does to a person.

If nothing else, he's glad he could boot up Street Jam. At least it works. He slips it back into his pocket once it's clear Brittany has forgotten them.

"Man, those really hurt when they hit you over and over like that," Rachel says. She looks over at him, then over his shoulder. "I wonder where our partners have gotten to?"

He wonders this too, and starts looking around. He spots Blaine standing by Quinn, using Pyrokinesis to create a wall of fire between them and Santana and Brittany. It's amazing how much Blaine has changed in such a short time. Instead of shrinking back and letting the others handle it, he's actually stepping up and fighting alongside Quinn. Granted, all he's really doing is playing defense, but it's still an improvement. After they had made eye contact over the battle field, somehow able to communicate _leave this to me_ over several feet, Kurt felt more at ease letting him take on a fight somewhat on his own.

It doesn't last, though; Kurt watches in horror as Santana leaps through the fire like a demon and attacks Blaine.

Blaine goes down and and Kurt can hear him crying out in pain, choking, struggling, and before he knows it he's taking off. He can hear Rachel behind him, voicing some mild concern over Blaine's welfare.

Before Kurt can make it over, Quinn has jumped in and saved him. Kurt once again feels jealousy flare up in him but he has no time to even acknowledge it or do anything about it. All he can do is temporarily dismiss it. By the time he's near enough to hear it, Santana is yelling at Quinn while Blaine gasps for air, lying in a heap in the dirt.

Kurt sits next to him as he sits up slowly. He can see red marks on Blaine's throat from the chain, as well as blood coming through his shirt. He carefully puts a hand against Blaine's shoulder, wary of hurting him further, and Blaine looks up at him. His eyes are blown wide with fear, but he's trying to hide it. Kurt feels a pang of guilt; if someone had just attempted to strangle him he would be just as terrified. He doesn't want Blaine to think that he has to hide his fear from him.

_Are you all right?_ has asks, and Blaine nods, pulling a pained face as he rubs his hand over his throat. Kurt feels horrible, sure that this is his fault. He was the one who told Blaine to try harder, to trust his instinct. He also told Blaine he would cover him, and now look. Blaine was hit and he was hit hard, and Kurt was nowhere near him. He was off with Rachel, worrying about her. She's not even his partner!

He's about to try to apologize when the sound of chains whipping through the air distracts him; Blaine flinches next to him, and Kurt immediately reaches over, flinging his arms around him, protecting him from further harm.

His heart is ramming hard in his chest. He's all but cradling Blaine against him, keeping a hand to the back of his head and an arm around his shoulders. And Blaine isn't trying to get away, or even showing any sign of not liking Kurt touching him. Instead, Blaine seems to burrow further into Kurt's arms before looking over Kurt's arm to watch what's happening.

Kurt looks up only when the attack stops. Quinn is standing with her feet apart and her stance tense, as though ready to attack. Santana is lying on the ground not far away while Brittany freaks out, flapping her arms around and making little squeaks of displeasure. Kurt doesn't know how Quinn managed to take Santana out like that, but he's glad she's stopped her assault.

He leans away from Blaine, and they get to their feet. Kurt is glad to see Blaine able to stand on his own, not wincing or weaving at all. All good signs.

"That wasn't very nice!" Brittany says unhappily. She then leans down to help Santana up as Quinn retreats a few feet. She comes to a stop next to Blaine.

"You all right?" she asks him shortly.

Blaine puts a hand against the side of his neck. "Yeah," he says, and Kurt looks over at him to see him smiling a bit. "I'll live. That was impressive," and he gestures to Santana, apparently referencing Quinn's attack a moment ago.

"Stop talking," Quinn responds testily. Kurt can't hold back the eye roll. Blaine takes the rudeness in his stride and doesn't seem bothered by it. Quinn ignores the two of them in favor of glaring more daggers at Santana. "What the hell is wrong with you? Why'd you attack us?" she shouts.

Santana is now on her feet with Brittany hugging her, pouting. Santana doesn't seem to notice or care. Instead, she returns Quinn's glare with just as much venom. "We need the points. And we'll get them by taking out other Players."

Kurt and Blaine gasp simultaneously. They turn to look at the other, and Kurt sees something dawning on Blaine; whatever it is, he doesn't have time to mention it.

Their timers hit past the hour mark, and everyone gasps or cringes or swears under their breath at the added pain, as well as the knowledge that they still have a mission to finish.

"We don't have time for this!" Quinn says hysterically, "Someone has to finish the mission. If our timers hit zero we're _all_ dead!"

"We're already dead," Brittany says plaintively.

Kurt gets his phone out and types out a quick message, ignoring typos. They don't have time for grammar.

_[blainetell the girls that we will handle santana & brit they can go finish the misison]_

_[-Kurt]_

Blaine looks at his phone, checking it after it buzzed in his pocket. He gives Kurt a little pat on the shoulder, then moves forward to Quinn.

OoOoOoOoO

"Let us handle these two. Kurt and I will distract them. You and Rachel take the mission."

Blaine says this quietly to Quinn, trying not to make it obvious. He's standing just behind her, hoping he doesn't call attention to him whispering to her.

"Are you out of your mind?" Quinn hisses back.

"Maybe," he says with a smile. "Just do it, okay? We'll be fine. We trust you guys."

"What're you two whispering about?" Rachel asks rather loudly. Blaine groans.

Santana doesn't wait to find out; instead, she charges forward with renewed energy, Brittany not far behind.

"Go, damn it!" Blaine urges, his panic welling up as Santana approaches with intent to murder them all in her eyes.

Quinn hesitates for only a moment before dashing away toward Rachel. Blaine doesn't have time to watch them leave, because Santana is upon him. Brittany targets Kurt, who comes to stand next to Blaine.

Chains and bullets start flying everywhere; Santana stays in one spot for the most part, Blaine notices, while Brittany moves around. He decides that staying right next to Kurt makes them both easy targets, so he starts running in an effort to avoid the chains flying at him.

His phone vibrates again.

_[i only have street jam dont know if itll work at all. what other pins do u have?]_

_[-Kurt]_

Blaine first puts away his phone, then digs in his pocket for his pins while both he and Kurt dodge Santana's ruthless onslaught of chains and Brittany's unpredictable bullets. He keeps Pyrokinesis in his right hand, and finds one of the pins that doesn't work for him. It shows a cartoon drawing of a disembodied hand moving a little marionette puppet. He finds himself chuckling at it, then stops himself. He knows Kurt favors Psychokinesis, and sure enough, that's what's scratched in on the back of the pin.

He changes the direction in which he's running, turning suddenly. Santana cries out in frustration, sounding like a pissed off cat, as more of her chains miss him. He runs toward Kurt, who is still dancing out of the way of Brittany's attack.

As soon as he's next to him, Blaine grabs Kurt's empty left hand and slaps the pin into it, ignoring the pain from the cut on his own hand, before running toward Santana.

He boots up Pyrokinesis, eager for once to enter the fray, because now he has a score to settle.

He waits until he's right on top of her before attacking.

OoOoOoOoO

Kurt is so thankful to have Psychokinesis back. This one has a different design on it than the one he had earlier, but he doesn't even care. He grabs onto a decent-sized rock lying on the side of the road not far from him and flings it in Brittany's direction. He doesn't want to hurt her, just scare her off. Her latest volley of bullets ricochet off the rock as it flies toward her, and she leaps away with a startled shriek as it hits the ground near her.

"Kurt...!" she cries, chastising him. "Don't throw things at me!"

He shakes his head a bit at her. She was just throwing things at him! Deciding his best bet is to respond in a more physical manner, he grabs ahold of another rock and throws it at her.

This one misses too, and she hops away again, looking offended. For some reason he feels like laughing. Watching her scamper away from the rocks like they're gross bugs or something is really kind of funny.

"It's not funny, Kurt! Those could actually hurt me, you know!" And now she seems angry at him, because she starts firing bullets again.

OoOoOoOoO

Blaine can hear Brittany saying something to Kurt, but he is really too busy to care. Fighting against Santana is probably the best workout ever, not including the prospect of being killed if he missteps. He's gasping for breath again, and he feels a little light-headed, and he feels _so gross_ because he's sweating bullets. Not to mention that it hurts an awful lot when he gets sweat in the open wounds caused by her chains.

Santana has abandoned her strategy of staying in one spot, and he chases after her. She continues shooting chains at him over her shoulder, and he's already been hit a few times. Somehow he hasn't been tripped up yet. One hit his arm a moment ago but vanished in seconds. It seems Santana can only release so many chains before they start to disappear.

Blaine keeps his fire trailing along beside him as he runs, and every time he sees an opening he points to Santana. The fire leaps up and races through the air toward her, and she has, for the most part, been able to fight it off before it caused too much damage.

Santana stops suddenly and turns, and she makes the same sweeping gesture with both arms that she did earlier. A whole slew of chains emerge as if shot from chain-shooting guns. Blaine spots a hole in the assault and immediately directs his fire through it.

OoOoOoOoO

He's running out of options. He doesn't want to hurt Brittany, but what the hell is he supposed to do? His only option with Psychokinesis is to throw rocks at her, and that could really hurt her.

She keeps shooting at him and Kurt is honestly amazed that he hasn't been hit yet. A few got close but only sheer luck has kept him from taking a single bullet.

He can either keep dodging her and hope she gives up, or he can try Street Jam.

He puts Psychokinesis back in his pocket.

OoOoOoOoO

He's running out of energy. Really, he hasn't run this much in a while. His track coach would be really disappointed in him. Santana is hardly affected by his fire, easily shaking it off with minimal damage.

Santana notices him getting tired and smiles sadistically. "What's the matter, can't keep up?" she calls before launching her chains again.

Blaine dodges a few but isn't successful in escaping all of them. One wraps around his ankle, the other hitting him right around the chest, trapping his left arm against his side. It pulls him back and he falls over, hitting the back of his head against the ground. He can only thank God that this didn't happen on the road or he'd probably have busted his head open.

Santana is approaching slowly while he grabs onto the chain around him. He spares her a look and she is still smiling that sick, twisted smile.

It occurs to him that the afterlife can really do funny things to people.

OoOoOoOoO

The pin takes a second or two to boot up, longer than Psychokinesis. But once Kurt has his head wrapped around it, he feels intense, burning pressure and an overwhelming desire to just _scream_.

Brittany pounces forward as he pauses, laughing joyfully now that he isn't throwing rocks at her.

Once she's close enough, Kurt tightens his grip on the pin, closes his eyes tight, and tenses up. And then he opens his mouth and screams.

A loud sound erupts around him, and it's different than Rachel's. There's still the screech of microphone feedback, but there's also sharp notes played on a violin and guitar distortion. He can just barely, _just barely_, hear his own voice in the cacophony. The sound wave barrels right into Brittany, knocking her back several feet. The ground shakes slightly as the sound wave blasts out in a twenty-foot radius around him.

OoOoOoOoO

Blaine and Santana both look up, startled by the noise. Blaine sees a tremor in the air coming toward them, but with the chains keeping him on the ground he can't get away. Instead he turns away as best he can, covering his head with his free arm as the sound wave hits them.

It goes over him like a quick but strong wind, just rustling his hair and clothes. The chains dissolve and after a moment he staggers onto his feet, favoring his ankle now, to find Santana knocked out cold a few feet away.

"Holy shit," he says weakly, and then turns around. Kurt is standing about twenty feet away, Brittany similarly knocked out in the dirt. Kurt is standing there, staring at his hand as Blaine jogs over, limping and wincing. He stops next to Kurt who is staring wide-eyed at the Street Jam pin.

"That was you?" Blaine asks faintly, once he's close enough, trying to catch his breath.

Kurt doesn't respond immediately, but eventually looks up, eyes full of alarm and a hint of disbelief. He nods slowly.

"...Wow," Blaine breathes. "...That was intense."

Kurt nods again. He seems to be recovered from the shock and sticks his pin back in his pocket. Then he glances at his hand, looking at the timer.

Blaine does the same. The display reads 1:48:12. About an hour and forty-five minutes left, and they have no idea if Quinn and Rachel have even found this supposed Big Bad Wolf.

Kurt immediately sits down, plopping himself down into the dirt. Blaine is worried that he's worn himself out and crouches down next to him, trying not to cringe from the pain.

"Are you okay?" he asks.

Kurt nods once again. He turns to look at Blaine. _You?_

"Oh I'm fine," Blaine says conversationally as he sits properly. "Did you even get hit? You look just the same as when we split up."

Kurt smiles, a cocky grin that Blaine can't help but love. He shakes his head. "Oh really? I see how it is. Go ahead and brag about it."

Kurt starts laughing, his eyes scrunching up. Of course, there's no sound, but Blaine loves his laugh nonetheless.

"You'd think that me being so short would make me less of a target," Blaine jokes. He wants Kurt to keep laughing, because his eyes light up so much when he's laughing. They sit for a minute as Kurt chuckles to himself. He's staring at Blaine, and Blaine doesn't know what to think about that look in his eyes.

"So," he says, "are we just going to sit here and hope Quinn and Rachel will finish the mission, and hope Santana and Brittany don't wake up and come after us again?"

It seems like it to him. Kurt takes out his phone to reply, probably having more to say than nodding his head.

_[i don't see the point in trying to find this Big Bad Wolf. we only have about an hour and half left. and you're hurt. if those two wake up i'll just take them out again. you really shouldn't be running around anymore.]_

_[-Kurt]_

Blaine looks up from his phone. He feels rather touched at Kurt's concern. "No, no, really, I'm fine," he says quickly. He glances down at himself; his shirt is spotted with half-dried blood and fraying here and there from where the chains tore at him. His ankle throbs with every heartbeat; it doesn't feel broken or anything, it just hurts a bit. Just a little. Maybe a bit more than just a little. And maybe the thought of getting back up and running off in search of another opponent to fight sounds like a really daunting task. His legs hurt, the cut on his hand hurts, his knees hurt, _his ankle hurts_. And his neck and shoulders, and the back of his head. Really, he just aches all over.

Kurt sighs from beside him, typing out another text while Blaine was taking inventory.

_[don't try to lie. i saw you limping like a shot horse when you were running over. and you look exhausted. :( as much as i hate to admit it, Quinn and Rachel are really good. i trust them to finish the mission. they can have the points 'cause i'm pretty sure you and i got the points from both missions so far.]_

_[-Kurt]_

Blaine scoffs lightly. "Huh. Shot horse? You're so nice to me. What a wonderful thing to say about your partner."

Kurt gives him a playful little shove on the shoulder, grinning broadly.

Blaine has a sudden thought and starts digging in his pocket. Kurt gives him a questioning look. "Hang on, hang on," Blaine mutters. He pulls out the flyer from yesterday, as well as the ball point pen. Kurt rolls his eyes.

"What?" Blaine says. "I've remembered something we can add to the list."

He unfolds the paper and hurriedly flips it over, not wanting to look at the adorable puppy on the front. It really tugs at his heartstrings, that puppy, and he really hopes it's been found.

He reads over the list quickly. _We are definitely dead. We are supposed to finish missions which usually entail fighting Noise. We fight Noise using Psychs. We have to finish one mission a day for seven days. If we don't finish, we're erased._

He takes the pen in hand and scribbles a fifth thing that they know for sure.

_Players get points for finishing the mission. Players can attack other Players for points. Whoever gets the most points at the end of the Game wins._

Kurt, who is looking over Blaine's shoulder at the list, gives a little nod.

They both look up from the list and stare at each other. Blaine doesn't know why, but Kurt's eyes are so... _captivating_. He can't seem to look away from them, unless it's to stare at his soft-looking lips. Blaine has only ever kissed a boy once. He's kissed a few girls, and before he knew he was gay he just thought that all kissing was this really weird, gross thing that he'd have to get used to. But then he got that one kiss from a boy, and his immediate thoughts had been along the lines of 'so this is what everyone was talking about! I didn't know kisses came in this flavor...!'

He really wants to find out what flavor Kurt's kisses are.

Just as these thoughts start flying around in his head like angry bees, he feels the distinctive sensation of rain falling on him. He and Kurt both look up at the same time to see that the storm clouds that have been brewing all day are finally letting loose.

"Oh, crap," Blaine says. "I don't feel like getting rained on right now."

Kurt shakes his head. _Me either. Where are we gonna go?_

Blaine shivers as the rain starts coming down pretty hard. "Where're we gonna go...? Um... We could head into the woods, I guess. It's the closest we're gonna get to shelter unless we head into town."

Kurt shields his phone from the rain with one hand while typing with the other, then hands the phone to Blaine instead of sending it.

_[if that's our only option... i'm sure we won't have to worry about getting hit by lightning since we're already dead.]_

"Good point," Blaine says as he gives Kurt his phone back. Kurt stands and pockets the phone, then bends over and puts an arm around Blaine's back and gets him on his feet. "Oh my God, I can _walk_, Kurt, I told you I'm fine-" He's cut short as he tries to put weight on his ankle and the pain spikes. He stumbles, choking back a colorful string of swear words as Kurt grabs him again.

He sees Kurt shake his head out of the corner of his eye, his expression exasperated but still wearing that little smile.

OoOoOoOoO

They hobble their way into the woods, Blaine cussing under his breath the whole way. Kurt feels really bad for finding it so incredibly sexy, seeing as he's cussing like this because he's in pain.

Kurt himself feels a bit worn down, like he could use a nap. He guesses that the Street Jam pin took a lot out of him. Still, Blaine is covered in mild to moderate scrapes and bruises, and he's hurt his ankle and has that rather painful-looking cut on the palm of his left hand. Kurt feels incredibly protective of him, and just wishes he would be more careful when they're fighting Noise. Or other Players, apparently.

They stop at a big oak tree, where very little rain gets through to the ground. Kurt lowers Blaine to the ground, and Blaine lets out a huff as he sits back against the trunk of the tree.

"Uugh..." he moans, "I hope all this goes away tomorrow, like yours did." He gestures to his bloody shirt and scraped knees.

Kurt sits next to Blaine, trying not to cringe at all the dirt and leaves and _bugs_. He scoots closer, as they're both shivering a bit from the rain and wind. They sit pressed into each other's side, trying to hide from the elements.

Blaine lifts a hand and runs it through his hair. The rain has loosened it from the gel for the most part. He pulls a face. "Man, what a day. I can't wait till this is over."

Kurt nods, but feels a pang in his gut. When this is over, if they get their life back, will he and Blaine ever see each other again? Will they still be friends? He hardly thinks that two people could go through something like this and never speak to each other again. But Blaine goes to Dalton, here in Westerville, and Kurt goes to McKinley in Lima. Kurt is the social leper of his school, the gay kid, the easy target for ridicule. If Blaine knew how he was treated at school... And really, Kurt doesn't put much stock in cliques or social standing in high school, because he's only going to be there for another year before he's gone. He doesn't want Blaine to think that he's that shallow, that he cares that much what people think of him.

The fact remains that Kurt is another pathetic Glee club loser, and while his peers are out getting high and drunk and having sex and generally _living,_ Kurt stays at home and sketches outfits and daydreams about how he's going to make something of himself. He has friends, but not the kind one would go out with every night. He and the girls from Glee are close, but not that close. They all have their own lives and Kurt has nothing.

Blaine probably has all sorts of friends and wouldn't miss him.

He feels his heart fall at this thought. He wonders if his dad misses him. He feels incredibly guilty for what he did, and he supposes that that's what motivates him. If he can get his life back he can go back to his family and undo this horrible mistake.

"Hey," Blaine says softly, "You look upset. What's the matter?"

Kurt shakes his head. He can't bother Blaine with his stupid problems. _It's nothing. I'm fine. Just tired._

"No, don't do that. Come on, tell me. You saw me have a huge meltdown earlier, you can tell me what's bugging you."

Kurt sighs, long and drawn out. He digs his phone out of his slightly damp jeans.

_[just thinking about how i died.]_

Blaine swallows thickly. "Oh. Um... well, do you wanna talk about it?"

Kurt shrugs. He doesn't know if he should tell Blaine, if it would change how Blaine thinks of him. He really doesn't want Blaine to see him as a statistic, or as an unstable, depressed teenager. He had a moment of weakness and he's paying for it. And maybe it's partly out of shame, because society looks down on mental illness and things like that. You're supposed to just buck up and deal with it.

He doesn't want to see the sadness in Blaine's eyes. But he figures it would only be fair; Blaine told him how he died, after all, and Kurt doesn't think they're really in a position to keep things from each other.

_[i killed myself]_

He shows the phone to Blaine before he can delete what he's typed. Blaine gasps softly.

"Oh, Kurt..." he breathes, and he wraps his arms around Kurt and hugs him. "I'm sorry."

Kurt just leans into the embrace. He doesn't know why Blaine would be sorry, but that's not important. He doesn't want to dwell on this, because he's already getting nervous about the mission. The timer is still ticking and they have put their lives in Quinn and Rachel's hands. They're just sitting here, hoping the girls can handle it.

Blaine starts running his hand up and down against Kurt's arm. "When we get out of this mess, you're gonna tell me all about it. Okay? Or whenever you feel like talking about it. I just assume it would be easier for you to actually talk about it, and not just text it to me."

Kurt nods. He smiles and the two of them settle in closer.

He's just starting to enjoy this when there's a distant sound of rushing wind. They both look toward the noise to see what can only be a tornado, only it doesn't reach up into the clouds and has a surreal, warped look to it. Kurt immediately leaps to his feet.

"Oh my God!" Blaine cries. He moves to get up as well, but Kurt stops him.

_You stay put,_ he says. Blaine looks like he's about to argue, but he's cut off by a loud, eerie-sounding howl.

A huge wolf runs by them, chased by the tornado. It's a Noise, judging by the fact that it looks like a zombie. It stumbles to the ground and slides into a tree and the tornado engulfs it, lifting it into the air before slamming it down. Upon impact, the Noise is erased and its static remains scatter like ashes.

Kurt stands there in awe, wondering what the hell just happened. His heart is beating so fast, and the adrenaline is quickly rushing out of him, just as fast as it came in. He isn't left wondering for long, because there is the sound of semi-distant cheering.

"We did it!" It's clearly Quinn; she comes running toward the place where the Wolf was erased with Rachel trailing along behind her. "Great job, Rachel. I can't believe it. That was so great."

Rachel just shrugs lightly, then spots Kurt and Blaine by the tree. "Oh, look! It's the boys."

The two of them walk over and stop in front of Kurt and Blaine. "You guys all right?" Quinn asks. The edge is mostly gone from her voice.

"For the most part," Blaine says. "We'll be fine tomorrow. That was amazing! Who's tornado was that?"

"Mine," Rachel says. "I've been wanting to try this Twister pin. It's really something, isn't it? Kind of wore me out, though." She then sits right down on the ground. Quinn does the same, and Kurt reclaims his spot next to Blaine.

"Mission accomplished," Quinn says smugly. She looks over at Kurt and Blaine and says, "You're welcome."

Kurt nudges Blaine, and he looks over. _[tell Quinn we said you're welcome for taking care of Santana and Brittany.]_

Blaine bites back laughter as he relays the message. Kurt looks down at his hand while Quinn tries to assure Blaine that they would have been able to handle it. The timer is gone; another day down.

"Rachel and I are unstoppable. You just wait. We are so taking this whole thing." Quinn says.

"Yeah," Rachel says, "we so got this."

"Now don't get cocky, ladies. You should've seen Kurt earlier. He's amazing," Blaine says and puts his arm around Kurt's shoulders. It's a seemingly platonic move, apparently to stave off the chill in the wind. But Kurt thinks there might be something else behind it. He only smiles and snuggles closer, faking a shiver so he has a good excuse.

OoOoOoOoO

The storm blows out within an hour, but they stay in the woods. It's getting late and they've yet to 'fall asleep' or whatever. Blaine really wishes it would just happen already, because apparently all injuries vanish overnight and his ankle really hurts. Along with the rest of him. Kurt won't even let him up; every time he tries Kurt carefully pushes him back. It's not like they have to be anywhere, so he gave up and is now content to just sit here, maybe pretend that they aren't in a sick game of life and death. Maybe he's out with his new best friend Kurt, sitting in the woods outside of town. Maybe if he pretends hard enough, he's sitting here with his _boyfriend_, enjoying a date on a nice, quiet evening after a storm.

Kurt is sitting next to him, holding Blaine's injured hand in both of his own, palm up. He looks a bit sad, and carefully runs his fingers along the torn, bloody skin. Blaine can't help but flinch, because it stings, and Kurt immediately stops, letting go of his hand in a hurry. Blaine wishes he wouldn't stop, though, because he's never had anyone to worry over him like this. His mother, yes, she worried over him constantly, but that was different. He would come home with some soccer injury, like a scuffed knee, and she would act like he had limped in with his foot chopped off. Even his father's brand of worry, even when he hovered over him that one time in the hospital, even that's different.

Kurt's hands are soft and delicate, but they're strong. His heart is racing; Blaine can feel it beating against him because they're sitting so close. Kurt's eyes are full of worry, and warmth, and something that Blaine just can't name at the moment. Even though they really can't do anything but wait for the fake sleep to take them, Kurt's soft touches and careful petting over the scrapes and bruises somehow lessens the pain.

Blaine rolls his shoulders around, careful to not disturb Kurt. He's had a thought buzzing around in his head since things settled down after the mission, and he wants to talk to Kurt about it. But he doesn't want to, because he doesn't know exactly what to say.

He feels like someone as wonderful as Kurt _must_ be taken. He is so out of Blaine's league that Blaine wishes he could stop feeling, stop thinking. Every one of his five senses is Kurt right now; he feels his touch. He sees his sad eyes, dismayed at Blaine's pain. He hears Kurt making the only sounds he can, soft tutting sounds and sighs. He can smell the scent of fresh laundry, and a flowery smell that harkens back to his youth. The flower scent doesn't clash with Kurt's masculinity at all; if anything, it makes him even more beautiful and otherworldly. Like he's some kind of embodiment of male beauty, like he's the ideal young man as written by poets in ancient Greece and such. Blaine would like to think that when Kurt took his own life, the powers that be were so pained by his death as to make flowers spring up for him.

And then there's taste, and here Blaine is letting his imagination run away from him. Once again he wonders what it would be like to kiss Kurt, he wonders if Kurt would enjoy it as much as Blaine would. Because now Blaine knows he would.

He's only ever felt this once, with that boy from the Gap. What was his name again? Jared? Joshua? Maybe it was Joshua. That doesn't matter. He thought he was in love, because every time he saw the guy from the Gap he would get the same feeling in his stomach that one might get when missing a step while walking down a flight of stairs. Or that feeling you get when going down in an elevator. A fluttery feeling that made him think he could float right off the ground and hover around behind the man of his dreams with little hearts bubbling out behind him.

This is different. Kurt is different. He doesn't just feel like he's missed a step, he feels like he's jumped a whole flight. He doesn't just feel like he's going down in an elevator, he feels like he's jumped off a cliff, only without the fear, with a safe landing guaranteed. This isn't just a flutter at the bottom of his stomach, this is warmth that travels from his head to his toes and back again.

This is 'that guy from the Gap' times a hundred. Times a thousand. Blaine is a romantic at heart, and he knows that he's on the way to falling hard for Kurt. That he may have already fallen hard for Kurt. But the fact remains that they met under the worst possible circumstances. They barely know each other, really. They only just met a few days ago, but it feels like ages. He chalks it up to another thing the afterlife does for a person. But in the end, what happens? Kurt will want to go back to his family and friends, back to the life he gave up in a moment of sadness. Blaine will have to go back to strict rules and a disapproving father and a mother who hovers too much.

Even if they can't eventually get together, for whatever reason, Blaine doesn't want to lose Kurt's friendship. He's never been so close to a person, and it's gotten to a point that he has bared his soul before Kurt, cried ugly tears in front of Kurt. It's gotten to a point where he has tended to moderate wounds on Kurt's back. It's getting to the point, slowly, where Blaine can watch Kurt's lips move and know what he's saying. And really, how can you not become close friends in a situation like this?

But when he thinks about his life, how his mother shelters him and his father keeps him on such a tight leash, he knows Kurt could walk away and they could never see each other again.

The thought is so terrifying for Blaine that he suddenly speaks up, breaking the silence. "Hey, Kurt."

Kurt looks over at him, but Blaine keeps staring off into nothing. "Promise me that when we're out of this mess we'll still be friends."

He looks over, knowing he has to because Kurt can't say anything. When he does, Kurt looks pleasantly surprised. _Of course_, he says, his eyes soft and a small smile playing on his lips.

Blaine grins lazily. He feels really sleepy all of a sudden, and all he wants to do is close his eyes. Kurt is similarly struggling to stay awake. Rather than fight it so he can keep fantasizing about what might never happen, or keep dwelling on his dark thoughts, Blaine leans back, slumping entirely against the tree. Kurt lays his head on his shoulder.

Blaine's last thought before dropping off is that one good thing has come from his untimely death. And that would be the boy curled up next to him. Even if they're only ever friends.

OoOoOoOoO

end of the chapter after three and before five ;D

There you go, some Blaingst for ya. I hope his panic attack earlier in the chapter came off right, the one that came right after they got the mission. He had a panic attack because he was getting himself all worked up over his entry fee, and then he opened the mission mail before he was 'ready'; I think this Blaine would want to at least take a deep breath and brace himself before committing himself to each mission, because once you open the message you've gotta get going, etcetc. So he kind of had a flashback to when he was in the hospital after the Sadie Hawkins Incident where his dad was worrying over him and hugging him and stuff. As much as I love the angst that comes with the Mean Mr. Anderson plot, I think Blaine's dad would be kind of strict, worried about outward appearances, but still loves his kid. I mean, come on. How can you not love Blainers? You'd have to be missing a soul to not love him.

Don't worry, Kurt angst is a-comin'. Might not be next chapter but it is coming.

I hope no one minds that I didn't include the big bad wolf battle. I don't want to overload the story with action because I don't really think I'm very good at writing it :x lol

Updated list of Psychs:

Kurt: Psychokinesis and Street Jam

Blaine: Lightning Bolt and Pyrokinesis

Quinn: Shockwave and Lance Lunge (she charges the target, punches them, and a spear of light goes through them like a lance.)

Rachel: Apport, Twister (makes a small tornado, which lifts the enemy and then slams them into the ground.)

Santana: Entanglement (makes chains fly at her opponent. In the game you would slash across the touch screen and a chain would appear along that line. In this story, the chains come flying out of her and when they hit something, they wrap around and constrict the target. It's like, if you've ever taken a ribbon or something and hit it against your arm, the way it wraps around? Like that. Only with a thick chain.)

Brittany: Energy Rounds (shoots a spray of bullets made of... _energy_. The name of this Psych makes me think of cereal made of Power Bars. :P yuck)

Next chapter is an interlude of sorts, and it's already written, so it'll be up soon. In the mean time, let me know what you think of the story so far.

Also, lest we forget, happy birthday to our boy Darren Criss. That's twenty-five shots of whiskey! Go go go! :D


	5. Blaine's Interlude

YOU HAVE SEVEN DAYS

This chapter is an interlude, I guess. We're going to leave the boys for a moment. This is the first of two interludes, the second coming in chapter eight.. This one focuses on Blaine's father. I decided to save Kurt's interlude for later :3

I totally made up Blaine's middle name, as well as the date for his birthday. I didn't want to just give him Darren's middle name and birthday because Blaine =/= Darren. Also, this chapter contains a very slight spoiler. Really, unless you already know about it, you probably won't even notice it.

**WARNING** - This chapter is going to go into detail with the aftermath of Blaine's death. And not just the melancholy of the funerals and the drama of a parent burying their child. If gruesome description of death bothers you, or if you don't want to read about your favorite characters' dead bodies and such (keeping in mind how Blaine died and that it was not pretty), then you may not want to read this. I feel like it's important to see how their death affects their loved ones, because we don't get to see it while in their perspective. Hopefully you'll read it, because I'm working pretty hard on this fic, but if you just can't stomach it, I understand completely. No hard feelings.

OoOoOoO

CHAPTER FIVE. Interlude.

OoOoOoO

It has been an increasingly long day for Harold Anderson.

He is sitting in his study, a lit cigarette hanging from his limp fingers. The ashes are gathering at the end as he has only taken one hit from it, when he lit it. A highball glass sits just within reach with a decent amount of scotch in it. He had poured it hours ago and has been sitting here, staring at it, letting his mind wander instead of tossing it back.

His desk is messy and unkempt, very out of ordinary for him. There are legal papers, a police statement, emails he printed off the computer, from family and friends and members of the community he's known for years. There is a clipping from today's newspaper. This he takes in his hand and holds it up so he can read it for the hundredth time.

There is a grainy black and white photo in the top corner of the clipping, showing his son, Blaine, smiling. It's his school photo from Dalton, so he's wearing his uniform and he looks very put together and like a fine, upstanding young man.

_On May 27th, Blaine Anderson died en route to Allen County Memorial Hospital. Blaine was sixteen and was a junior at Dalton Academy, where he was an Honors Student and participated in numerous sports and activities. He played soccer, tennis, ran track, and also was a member of the drama club and the Dalton Academy Warblers, who recently placed 17th at the National Show Choir competition in New York._

_Anyone who has ever met Blaine will tell you that he was an amicable, vivacious young man who lit up any room he was in. His enthusiasm was infectious, no matter what he was involved in. When asked, his peers describe him as kind, charming, open-hearted, and confident in who he was. They tell of times when Blaine would put aside his own troubles in order to help others, when Blaine would go out of his way for anyone without being asked. They tell of soccer and tennis games, and performances where Blaine led the Warblers in wowing another crowd. They tell of his uncanny ability to bring music to any gathering, be it spontaneous or planned, how he would have a guitar in the next room or a piano upstairs and a song of his own creation to play._

_In my experience with Blaine, as one of his teachers, I saw someone with great maturity. He was, as we like to say, an old soul. Manners have fallen out of fashion with young men these days, but not with Blaine. I can easily recall him being late to my first period Classic Lit class, simply because he got caught up holding a door open for a long line of other students. He always said please and thank you and addressed his teachers as 'Sir' or 'Ma'am', but without any hint of sarcasm. He was genuine, a well-raised boy; his manner a relic of the days when men were gentlemen._

_It goes without saying that Blaine is sorely missed. Those that knew him but do not know Dalton should be aware that the junior wing of our school was nearly at a standstill from the loss, and our boys were grieving as though each one of them had lost a dear brother. Though class was still in session the day after Blaine's passing for SAT Prep, we only discussed and reminisced. The seat that was previously occupied by Blaine remains empty in every class of mine, even when I am teaching students not in Blaine's grade. Students who have that seat in other periods must have been informed to move elsewhere, and they take a seat in the back. Blaine may have been a junior, but his presence is all over this school and he has touched many hearts here._

_I can safely speak for all of Dalton's faculty and student body when I say that Blaine's family and close friends are in our thoughts and prayers. I can also safely say that, though Blaine is no longer with us, he still leaves his lasting impression. Dalton will not soon forget him, nor will Westerville. He will not be forgotten easily._

_At the end of the day though, all that can be said is that Blaine was a wonderful person and it was my sincere pleasure to have taught him, and that I am truly honored to have known him. Dalton will likely not see the likes of Blaine again, but it's just as well, because there are few who could even come close._

_- Dr Richard D. Owen, PhD_

_Professor of Language Arts_

_English Teacher, Grade 11, Dalton Academy_

Harold stares at the clipping of his son's obituary, reading the words and still not believing a damn word of it. Not that Blaine was a good boy and all that. He knows that. He knows Blaine has manners and plays sports and sings in the choir. Of course he knows, and perhaps that stings a little, because how many of those Warblers performances did he miss? How many of those soccer and tennis games did he sit through with his laptop open or on his phone, still conducting business? How many times had he heard Blaine plucking away at that guitar late at night and hollered at him to knock it off and go to bed?

He doesn't believe that his boy is gone. His little boy. He can't actually be gone.

But the image in his head argues the point, and Harold is revisiting that horrific night at hospital, in the morgue, staring at his son's body.

Blaine had not just simply died. He had not appeared to be asleep. The EMTs and the police that were at the scene told him what happened, that Blaine had been crossing the street and was struck by a truck whose breaks had gone out.

The truck had run right over Blaine, smashing his left leg, cracking his head open. His eyes were still open but glazed over and rolled back slightly. His hair was matted with blood. He was littered with open wounds that no longer bled and broken bones and...

Harold lets out a sob. His Blaine, his little boy. The only real joy in his life. He can't believe it. He just can't. It's been days but he still can't fathom the idea that one day, Blaine woke up and walked to school, went about his day as he normally would, unaware that the minutes were ticking down toward zero. And on his way home, he was killed.

His son was killed.

His son is dead.

He'll never hear him playing guitar after midnight. He'll never hear him singing in the shower, thinking no one can hear him. He'll never get a chance to actually watch a soccer game, or a Warblers performance, because there won't be anymore for Blaine. He'll never get to hear about his escapades with his friends again, on those rare chances he was allowed out with them. He'll never get to simply watch the things he does, the little habits and quirks. How he would tap his fingers rhythmically against the banister as he walked up or down the stairs. How he would scuff his feet against the floor when sitting on one of the tall stools at the kitchen island. The way he would always have something to fiddle with; a guitar pick to turn deftly between his fingers, a pen to hit against table tops like a drum stick, sometimes a plain metal ring to spin.

He'll never get the chance to say how sorry he is for being so hard on him. He'll never get the chance to explain, to tell him that Harold's own father never cared one bit what he did, never set guidelines and never seemed to want to acknowledge that he even had a son. Harold had been determined to be a different sort of father the day his wife Miranda told him she was pregnant. Perhaps he was too strong in his determination to set Blaine on the right path. Perhaps Harold's father left traces in him that have gone unnoticed. But Miranda balanced her husband's strict rules by always fussing over their son, always sympathizing with his teenaged drama. She took his side when Blaine came out to them. She kept Harold from flying off the handle, she reminded him that Blaine was still their son, still her baby, and she would love him deeply no matter who or what he was.

"It's the duty of a parent," Miranda had said that night, hours after Blaine had revealed his deepest secret, "to love your child. When they're very young, still a blank slate but developing a cute little personality, you love them. When they grow and become a different person, when they realize who they're really meant to be, then you still love them. Our son may be gay, Harry, but he is still our son... and if this causes you to be horrible to him, or if you somehow find it even possible to stop loving him... Just know that I would never forgive you."

Miranda has been absolutely inconsolable. She has been spending every night so far in Blaine's room, on his hurriedly-made bed, sobbing into his lopsided pillows. She keeps dust from accumulating on any surface in Blaine's room, but never changes it from it's slightly-messy-but-acceptable state. There are still guitar picks lying here and there on the floor, half embedded into the carpet, as though Blaine had been practicing flicking them out to an adoring crowd of fans. There is still a pile of clothes in his laundry basket, the sleeve of a burgundy cardigan still dangling over the edge. There is still an empty coffee cup from his favorite cafe on his desk. There are still sheets of music piled on the same desk, some of it blank and some of it scribbled on in pencil.

Harold cannot bring himself to go in that room. It still looks lived in, like Blaine might come home while Harold is in there, wondering what he's doing, snooping around in his stuff. Blaine has never been the kind of teenager that gives in to anger at the slightest provocation, but he is - was - a teenager nonetheless and one surefire way to set him off would be to invade his privacy. And though Blaine isn't - wasn't - an easily angered person, when he was it was like an explosion. It would blast out of him, quick and hard and searing. And then it would fizzle out and be done.

He had gone in that room with Miranda yesterday to look through Blaine's clothes, trying to find something to bury him in. She cried the whole time, and he couldn't stop himself from joining her. She had said that they needed to pick something nice, something that Blaine would've liked. They had paid a great deal of money to fix him up nice, to close the cuts and the jagged head wound and generally make him look less horrific. They're still going to have a closed casket.

These thoughts send Harold into a tailspin of misery. Picking out the right clothes to bury him in, the last thing he'll ever wear. Trying to decide what to do with Blaine's things, what to do with the money they've been putting away for him to go to college. Looking for a suitable casket. Looking for a place to hold the funeral.

Miranda has decided to have flowers at the funeral. She wants so many flowers that mourners will be sick of flowers by the time they leave. Blaine had always loved flowers, even as a child. She had taught him how to make a dandelion crown when he was little, and Harold was shocked one day to find half the yard devoid of the devilish little weeds, when before it had been overrun. Of course, upon walking through the house, he would find a circle of dandelions on top of lamps and on doorknobs and hanging carefully from the ends of the mantle.

Blaine's favorite had always been peonies, because as he had said to his mother one day, the scent reminds him of summer when he was young. The neighbors had had a few bushes, and little Blaine would sneak over just to smell them. But he'd also been fond of grape hyacinth, and hibiscus, and apple blossoms. Even when he was older, he would go out to stand underneath their apple tree in late spring when the blossoms were shaking loose in the breeze, laughing as the petals fell around him like snow. He would come in, beaming, sighing with pure content, petals stuck in his hair and to his clothes. Harold had seen him at it this past spring; early one Sunday morning before church, the sun just barely having risen. Blaine stood out in the backyard in his Sunday best, arms out, spinning in lazy circles. He had his head thrown back, his eyes closed, a bright smile on his face.

Miranda busies herself going about the neighborhood, asking for flowers. Real, home-grown flowers, not the dyed and lifeless flowers one might find at the local florist or, worse yet, the supermarket. The response has been astounding, and just in their housing addition at least twenty people have promised to bring peonies and honeysuckle and lilac, whatever they can spare. Mrs Miller has offered up her much-envied lilies. Mrs Phillips is making bouquets to put in vases around the funeral home, donating wild roses and snapdragons.

The only flower not allowed is carnations. Blaine had had one pinned to his lapel for the Sadie Hawkins dance, and the flower had clung to him all throughout the ordeal of being assaulted. Even as he was sitting on a bed in the ER, his arm in a sling and a black eye blooming on his face, the flower remained. Torn and battered, a bit crushed, but still serving its purpose. Even so, Harold and Miranda are in agreement that seeing carnations at his funeral would only remind them of the time the world turned on someone so pure and innocent.

He doesn't honestly think he'll make it through the funeral. He doesn't know what he's going to do when that casket is lowered into the ground. He doesn't know how he'll be able to face that headstone with his son's name on it, knowing what is lying in the ground below his feet. Knowing that he will never be able to make things right. Knowing that he never actually told his son that he loved him, knowing that their relationship was damaged after Blaine came out, all because of Harold clinging to ideas of the conservative society he knew so well.

OoOoOoO

Nearing the end of the week, Harold and his wife stand in a graveyard late in the day. The funeral has long since been over, and there's fresh dirt in the hole in the ground that they stand in front of. Miranda is sobbing, leaning against him. He really doesn't know how he's still standing, let alone supporting her.

The funeral had been long. It felt a lot longer than it actually was. A lot of people came, and he's so happy in a strange sort of way. It really hit home how loved Blaine was.

"Harry..." Miranda gasps, "Harry, I miss him so much."

"I know," he says sadly. "To be honest, I really don't know what to do now. I don't know how I'm going to keep going... knowing that... I never got to tell him that I love him. Or that I'm so sorry."

Miranda sniffles and shakes her head. "He knew. He hero-worshipped you when he was a little boy, you know." She says this with a watery smile. "You may have had a rough patch, but... He knew you loved him."

"I loved him since the first moment I saw him, in the hospital... He was so tiny."

"He was, wasn't he? Oh, my poor baby..."

He hesitates. He doesn't feel like now is the time to be business-like, but it brings him a sense of normality. He indulges himself and hopes his wife can forgive him for it. "Have you gotten ahold of his brother yet?"

She chokes on her sobs, tries to calm herself before responding. "No... I've been calling but he won't answer. Probably busy. I haven't left a voicemail yet because... I don't think I can say it out loud yet."

Harold can't argue with her right now, so they go back to silence, save for her sniffles and quiet sobs. He tightens his grip around her and stares down at the headstone, his own eyes filling with tears.

_Blaine Elliot Anderson_

_June 5 1994 - May 27 2011_

_Beloved Son, Brother, and Friend_

_ar dheis de go raibh a anam_

OoOoOoO

end of chapter five

Geez, finding an epitaph for Blaine was really hard. :/ It's in Gaelic, because I looove Gaelic. It's such a gorgeous language. And the Blaine in my head was all like _"oooh pick that one, that one, I want thaaat one! !" _while I was looking up Gaelic phrases for an unrelated project.

Since it can be tricky, here's how you pronounce it:

Ar dheis de go raibh a anam

air esh day guh row a ann-im

'row' as in a fight or argument, or 'row a boat'. 'a' as in the letter A. It means 'may he rest in peace' and is a common phrase used on gravestones etc.

I just want to say that I feel super terrible for doing that to poor Blaine, but you and I both know that he's actually okay. Sort of. :/ Depends on how you look at it, I guess.

Chances are you're wondering how Kurt and Blaine can come back if they've already been laid to rest in reality. I promise it'll make sense. This was one of the plot holes in the game, esp. considering that it took place in Japan where most people are cremated and therefore wouldn't have a body to go back to. So some creative liberties must be taken. I encourage you to make guesses and speculate. :D

Back to the boys next chapter, and if all goes according to plan I ought to have it up soon. I'm trying to update as fast as I can, but I have work and stuff, and I really don't want to screw this up. I've been putting a lot of effort into this fanfic, so if there's something I'm not doing right, or I can improve on, or ANYTHING AT ALL, please let me know. I won't get mad if you tell me I suck, I'll only thank you for your blunt honesty. Love you guys!


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